


Stage Lights

by Murf1307, The Angels Handprint (Cobalt)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 92,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/pseuds/Murf1307, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobalt/pseuds/The%20Angels%20Handprint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak is the lead in a brand new musical in New York, and Dean is the stagecrew chief. What starts out as a budding romance becomes so much more when both of their pasts come into play, and their bond grows even stronger as their lives twist and turn in ways they couldn't even have imagined. Thankfully, they have their support system consisting of Dean's brother Sam, Cas's cousin Gabriel, their stage manager Meg, and Charlie the techie. But still, can their newfound bond withstand the pressure and strain?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who's That Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a collaboration between myself and my high school friend, murf1307, that took us several grueling months to complete. Enjoy!

**Chapter One: Who's That Boy**

The alarm blared loudly, and Castiel Novak groaned from under his thick comforter, reaching out to his nightstand and smacking his hand down to make the blasted intrusion stop. Well, that was his plan, except in his state of half-awakeness he missed the snooze button and wound up knocking the alarm clock right off the nightstand and onto his bedroom carpet.

"Fuck," he whined, burying his head underneath his pillow in a halfhearted attempt to drown out the offending noise. After ten futile seconds of this, Castiel gave up, throwing the pillow and bedsheets off of his barely clothed body and leaning as far off of his queen-sized bed as possible without falling off to grab the alarm clock and brutally slam it back onto his nightstand, pressing the snooze button. He sat up on the edge of his bed, running his hands through his dark, thick hair as he examined the time on the alarm clock: 5:30.

"This is my freaking life..." Castiel complained to himself. Waking up this early wasn't exactly normal for the twenty-three year old stage actor, but he had an early meeting for a one night only benefit show that was being put on for a special charity organization. He had volunteered his time and expertise to play the lead in the show, and as such, he didn't really have room to complain when he needed to wake up at the just about dawn to get ready for a meeting.

Castiel padded across the soft blue carpet to his bathroom in just his boxers, closed the door, and removed the one shred of clothing he wore to sleep. He turned the shower on to full blast, stepping in as the frigid water warmed up in order to fully wake himself up. By the time he finished his shower, shaved, and dressed in appropriate attire for the brisk October air, nearly an hour had passed. Grabbing his key and small black messenger bag from the table in the cramped living room of his apartment, Castiel left, heading down the street to his favorite Starbucks on the corner.

No sooner had he walked in and inhaled the delicious aroma of caffeine than a steaming white cup was placed in front of him on the counter. He glanced up in surprise as the girl who served him laughed, her platinum blonde locks bouncing in mirth. Castiel smiled. "Good morning, Jo," he greeted, taking the cup from where she had placed it and breathing in the smell of his favorite blend, a double skim cinnamon hazelnut latte with extra whipped cream.

Jo's eyes twinkled. "Heya, Cas," she replied. "I figured I'd prepare your usual and put it on your tab, because I remembered you telling me about your unusual early start this morning."

Castiel sighed in relief, sipping the delicious, scalding beverage. "Thanks, Jo, you're an absolute lifesaver. I would drop dead if I had to wake up at the asscrack of dawn and then wait on line for coffee."

Jo giggled, waving him out the door as she began to walk back to the other side of the counter where a few customers had gathered during the exchange. "Yeah, yeah, I know I'm great. Get outta here!"

"Tell Adam I said hi," Cas finished, smiling and carrying his coffee out of the store like it was his firstborn child, turning the corner and walking down the block in the direction of the studio where the meeting was to be held.

Castiel and Jo had been friends since Cas had moved into his apartment two years past, and had begun visiting the busy Starbucks on the corner sometimes multiple times per day. Jo was the manager of that particular store, which seemed to be a rare phenomenon seeing as how she had just passed her twenty-first birthday, but she was incredibly responsible and efficient, so Castiel had no doubt that she was given her position because she was by far the best person for the job. Jo had picked up his "usual" within the first three days, and they first hit it off as friends on the first day she prepared his drink without him even needing to ask. She was a great friend, and sometimes a personal confidante, often taking a break during the midday rush to talk with Cas over his two o'clock cup.

Castiel's appreciation of his friend was interrupted while he crossed the street, when an obnoxious taxi driver had ignored the stop sign at that corner and nearly ran him over as he strode over the crosswalk. He jumped to the side to avoid being hit, nearly spilling his coffee on the side of the road as he flipped off the cab driver before continuing his stroll.

He arrived at the studio about fifteen minutes early. The small building would not be where the show was rehearsed and performed; it was just where the initial meetings took place. After turning several corners to find his way to the meeting room, Castiel was greeted by Crowley, the director.

"Ah, Castiel! I should have figured you'd be early," Crowley told him, smiling. "Here, have a script." Cas took the book from his outstretched hand and slid into a chair at the meeting room table, opening the book as he sipped his coffee. "It'll be a while yet, we're still waiting for the other performers," Crowley informed him. Cas simply nodded, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He wasn't quite one for many words that early in the morning. Crowley smirked in understanding and left the room.

By the time early afternoon rolled around, the entire cast had completed the first readthrough, along with discussions about character development and relationships, and a listen to the preliminary soundtrack. It was a great show, and if the benefit show went well, they might get investors interested and possibly bring the show to a regular venue, which would be a dream come true for the producer. Castiel and the rest of the cast were informed that rehearsals would start in three days, and their lines were to be memorized by then. A three day deadline was something Cas wasn't quite used to, and it was asking a lot of the actors, but it was asked if any of the actors had a problem with it, and Castiel was confident that he could memorize his substantial amount of lines in three days. When the meeting was called to a close, it was almost 2:30.

Castiel yawned, putting his script in his messenger bag and throwing out his long-empty coffee cup as he left the room. He figured he was long overdue for another cup, and, well, his favorite Starbucks was on the way to the theater that he was going to visit, where the rehearsals and performance would take place. Needless to say, another gloriously hot cinnamon hazelnut latte was halfway gone by the time he made it to the theater.

It was his last stop of the day, and honestly, all he wanted to do was get back to his apartment, learn some lines, and pass out, but he figured it would be a good idea to see the space and get acquainted with the building. While he looked around, past the spacious stage and well-lit dressing rooms, he happened to pass by the main crew room, where the members of the stage crew were already hard at work putting together the set. Normally, cast isn't allowed anywhere in the crew room areas, so Castiel had to settle for a glance inside, as he caught a brief glimpse of a built figure in a black t-shirt bent close to a set of instructions on one of the work tables. Cas shrugged to himself, internally admitting that the view wasn't that bad, before moving on and heading back to his apartment.

* * *

The next day, Castiel decided that he really liked the theater, mainly for the way its backstage area was veritably labyrinthine in its construction. He was especially fond of this one particular hallway, in fact, as it was far enough away from the stage that it was nearly silent, and far enough from the crew areas to prevent him from incurring the wrath of the stage manager. It was apparently unused, though it appeared to cut indirectly through from the stage to the crew room, so he had chosen it as his memorization area. He seated himself on the floor as he slipped on his black-framed reading glasses, legs stretched out and back against the wall as he read to himself, his lips curving around the words.

He didn't hear the footsteps when they came, so he was shocked out of his concentration when someone tripped over his legs and let out a loud, harsh, "Son of a bitch!" accompanied by a heavy thud. It took a moment before Castiel could get a good look at the guy, and he took in quite a sight.

The guy was wearing paint-splattered jeans and a black tee, and his hands were clamped around the edges of a door. He had brown hair – almost caramel-coloured – and it was cropped short. On closer inspection, Castiel noted the small pendant on a black cord hanging around his neck.

The guy got to his feet, the door clattering entirely to the floor, as their eyes meet for the first time. He had green eyes, and long lashes, and there's a long moment of silence.

Then the guy's eyes widened. "Wait, you're – you're Castiel Novak, right?"

Cas nodded, his mouth dry. The guy had this kind of rough, Midwestern accent, and Cas could feel his knees weakening as he shoved his glasses higher on his nose. "Uh, yeah."

"Dean Winchester." This smile cut at the edges of his – Dean Winchester's, God, he's even got a cowboy kind of name – mouth (and what a pretty mouth it was, at that), and Castiel wasn't really sure how to respond. Offstage and apart from people he already knew (like Gabe, or Jo), he was pretty much absolutely awful at social interaction.

But Dean Winchester extended a hand to him, and, wonder of wonders, he remembered to shake it. Then Dean spoke again: "I, uh, I'm kind of a fan of your work."

"Oh," Cas mumbled as he looked down at the floor, hoping he wasn't blushing. "Thank you."

The silence this time was awkward rather than revelatory, as Cas looked up at Dean through his lenses.

"Dammit - wish I had something for you to sign," Dean finally muttered, shifting from one foot to the other just once.

Castiel stood there silent for a moment, then offered, "I have a Sharpie..." He had signed people before, of course - there'd been that one girl who'd almost flashed him when she offered her chest for him to sign. He remembered the dirty look her girlfriend gave him and almost shuddered even now, over a year after the event.

Dean seemed to understand, though, and he was quiet, and nervous, and strangely gentle as he rolled up his left sleeve.

Castiel, in a moment of brazenness (and possibly utter idiocy), entered Dean's personal space. He took Dean's bicep in his hand and pulled the Sharpie from his pocket. When they touched, Castiel swore he could feel sparks between their skin, but he hid the idea away immediately, because that doesn't happen – he knows that too well. It just couldn't happen. He signed his name, Castiel J. Novak, and paused for a moment, attempting to ignore the rush that the feel of the hard, bulging muscle underneath the palm of his hand gave him - and was Dean flexing? After a few seconds, he reluctantly let go of Dean's arm.

They parted slowly, and Castiel could not meet Dean's eyes. He thought he might say something stupid if he does.

"Hey, uh," Dean says, breaking the silence. "Thanks."

Castiel told his common sense to, to use colloquialisms, go fuck itself, and looked up as he replied, "You're welcome."

Dean smiled, just the edge of a smile, and it was rather beautiful enough to take Castiel's breath away. Dean didn't really back away, though there was maybe a foot of space between them at best. "I'll have to bring a playbill or something, if I see you again."

"Uh, certainly. Sharpie washes off." It was an inane comment, but it was all Castiel had.

Dean laughed. Beautifully. "Yeah. Anybody who's ever done an oral report knows that."

The word "oral" coming from that pretty mouth did things to Castiel's insides, but he was fairly certain that it didn't show on his face. He'd spent years learning to control his expressions – it's part of the job, after all. After a moment, he smiled back and nodded.

They stood there like that for another long moment, and then Dean suddenly looked down at the door on the floor behind them, as if its existence had completely gone out of his mind. "Dammit. Gotta get that back to Props."

"I'm sorry," Castiel said, stricken with guilt.

"No, no, it's fine. It won't take long to fix, and I should've been paying attention." Dean smiled again, reassuring, and bent to pick up the door. Castiel's mind registered a brief moment of recognition at the bent over form, but didn't think much of it as Dean lifted the cumbersome object to shoulder height, hoisting it over his shoulder as his arm muscles bulged. He smiled and, in what seemed to be an almost last-minute gesture, winked at Castiel before turning completely around and heading down the hallway.

Cas watched him walk away, and realized belatedly that this was the man whose ass he'd been ogling from outside the crew room yesterday. His face immediately flushed, and he was grateful to high heaven that Dean wasn't still there to see it.

Well, that's just awkward.

As he leaned back against the wall, the image of Dean's smile and wink in his mind, the beautiful smile that nearly took his breath away just minutes earler, and the wink with those long-lashed, gorgeous green eyes, caused him to sink down to the floor half-dazed.

"What the hell just happened?" Cas asked himself in flushed exasperation. He shrugged off the entire situation and adjusted his reading glasses on the bridge of his nose as he once again picked up his script.

* * *

Dean splashed his face with ice cold water after his daily morning shave, looking in the mirror and sighing at the tired expression and dark circles marring his admittedly attractive visage. No, he wasn't vain, he was just honest. He was damn good looking, and he knew it. Twisting the nozzle of the sink to the off position, he grabbed a small hand towel off the rack and dried his face. As he looked down at his arm, he noticed Castiel's signature still in place on his bicep, if a bit faded from his earlier shower. He smirked to himself. That man was definitely something.

As he walked back into his bedroom, a figure stirred underneath the sheets. "Dean?" asked the tan-skinned, black haired boy from last night. Dean sighed. He was hoping that he would be able to leave for work before the guy woke up. One night stands just didn't understand that they were one night stands sometimes. The kid was a good fuck, but didn't mean anything more than that. Dean had way too much weighing down on his shoulders lately to worry about who exactly it was who was helping him relieve some tension every once in a while, and all that he could remember was that the guy was almost four years younger than him.

He pointed to the nightstand, where a ten dollar bill rested on top of a piece of paper with a hastily scrawled note on it from when Dean had just woken up earler. "There's enough for cab fare there; I have to get to work."

At the guy's indignant expression, Dean lost his patience. "I'm not paying you for the god damn sex, I was just being a gentleman and making sure you had a way home. Jesus Christ!" Ignoring the kid's shocked and slightly hurt expression, Dean left the room, grabbing his backpack and phone before taking his leave from the apartment.

As he walked down the street, he remembered that he had wanted to get something for Castiel to sign the next time they met. He sighed in frustration before realizing that he could just have Castiel sign his binder. He took that thing everywhere, seeing as how it had all of the blueprints and plans for whatever needed to be built by the stage crew, and he figured that was a better thing than any to get signed by his favorite stage actor. He had seen Cas in a few productions, though not as a lead, and he always stood out to Dean as a great actor and a phenomenal singer.

Their conversation the day before brought a smirk to Dean's face. Castiel seemed a bit nervous for some reason, even though he obviously had no idea that Dean was quite starstruck. It was adorable. The image of Cas looking up at him with those bright blue eyes through those fuckhot glasses flashed through his mind, and Dean's stomach fluttered at the memory of the slight flush on the man's face. Completely disregarding the butterflies, Dean shook his head, heading into the back door to the main stage crew room. Even though he felt like fireworks were exploding at their point of skin contact when Castiel had grabbed Dean's arm to sign his shoulder, he refused to believe that anything would come of it. In his experience, things like that were simply unrealistic to hope for.

Dean was quite the important person when it came to stage crew with this particular organization, seeing as his expertise and efficiency had gotten him promoted to crew chief within a year of his first job. He directed a few crew members who were early birds like him to get started on cutting plywood for a house set that needed to be built, as he threw himself into his work, all thoughts of the rather entrancing blue-eyed actor out of his head.

Within a few hours, enough had been done that Dean was rather satisfied with the stagecrew, so he gave them an hour-long lunchbreak as a reward. While the crew members celebrated and began to trickle out, Dean meandered through the twisting maze of backstage hallways to find the door that led to the small yard in the back of the theater. As he opened the door and stepped out, the cool breeze flooded across his body, and he inhaled deeply and sighed. The smell of nature combined with the stench of New York City smelled like home, which was why he loved it at the back of the theater.

He started to sit down at the wall of the building when a voice drifted in on the breeze. It was a male voice, and it was singing. It was possibly one of the most beautiful things Dean had ever heard. He didn't recognize the song, but the soft, sad tone of the voice nearly brought a tear to Dean's eye right then. He followed the sound until he came upon the edge of a small glade of trees farther back in the yard of the theater. Peeking from behind a tall oak, he saw Castiel Novak standing near a tree, arm outstretched, as a bluejay perched on his hand. It was the most fascinating thing: the bluejay seemed to be staring intently at the actor as he sang, like it was paying attention.

The song rose to a climax as Castiel's voice flooded through Dean, making his pulse quicken and his throat constrict. As Castiel's voice trickled off to nothing, he smiled sadly, a tear running down his cheek as he lifted his arm slightly so that the bluejay would take flight, apparently having lost interest. He walked closer to the tree he was standing near, turning around and sliding down to the ground and taking his script in hand, and Dean figured he was probably memorizing his lines again.

In order to not disturb the man, Dean quietly vacated the area, entering the theater once again to sink to the floor against the wall in the daze. Cas's voice… he sounded so lost, and broken, and all Dean wanted to do was take him in his arms and put him back together.

He shivered at the feeling that was running through his veins before standing up and shaking it off immediately. No. Things like that just didn't happen for Dean Winchester. He knew from experience that all caring did was get you hurt.


	2. Call Me Maybe

**Chapter Two: Call Me Maybe**

All day long, one particular crew member that Dean didn't have much patience for was complaining about how little time they had until the show and how few people they had to work with, making the task of assembling the sets more difficult. After reprimanding the girl two or three times, Dean finally got fed up and just snapped, slamming the piece of wood he was holding down on a work bench and rounding on her in a fury.

"Okay, look, Ruby. I'm doing my best to work with you guys as well as I possibly can in order to get everything done that needs to get done. We all know that we're under pressure because we don't have all the time in the world until the show, so we're all making do with the relatively small crew that we have and working with it to do our God damn jobs and make this happen. At this point, all you're doing is annoying the shit out of us and slowing us down. So either suck it up and do your job like everybody else here is doing, or show yourself to the door and don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out." At Ruby's disgusted expression, Dean decided to add an additional warning. "Oh, and don't make me get Meg in here. You know firsthand that she doesn't tolerate your bullshit nearly as well as I do." At the mention of the stage manager's name, Ruby blanched, murmuring random words of apology and returning to the task she was originally doing. Dean sighed, frustrated with the fact that he constantly had to remind people like Ruby who was in charge here.

He decided to take a break at that point, fed up with people like Ruby fucking with his plans for the day. They were almost done for the day anyway, so he figured he might as well take off early to check out what was going on at rehearsal before calling it a day and getting ready to meet up with his brother. Sam had called him the night before saying that he wanted to meet up for dinner because Dean had been quite busy lately, and Dean felt guilty that he hadn't been spending enough time with his baby brother, so he offered to take him on a tour of the theater he was working at the next day, so he was anxious for the day to be over so he could enjoy his brother's company.

He wandered the corridors of the backstage area, eventually making his way to the stage. He stood off in the wings, observing the drama going on between Castiel's character and his co-star Anna's. He noticed that their interactive dynamic was incredible; the casting director had definitely chosen well. When their duet started, Dean was immediately entranced, not even realizing the things that Cas's voice did to him. Observing the contours of Castiel's face, he noted that the man looked absolutely fantastic under the stage lights. At the end of the song, he heard one set of hands clapping from the audience.

"And that's a wrap for today, folks," came Crowley's voice from the edge of the mezzanine. "That was fucking fantastic." Dean grinned. He had taken to Crowley quite a bit; the man was hysterical. Plus, he was the guy that gave Dean his job, after all. He looked onto the stage to see Cas beaming as he shared a hug with Anna before retiring to the wings opposite where Dean was to get his things and get ready to leave. Dean's stomach fluttered for a moment, and he barely registered the thought that he wanted to be the one to make Cas smile like that before he shoved it out of his mind. As a dull clamor of voices began while the remaining actors engaged in discussion, Dean followed Castiel out of the stage area to the same hallway where they first met.

"Hey, Castiel!" Dean called, grinning, and the man stopped dead in his tracks before turning around with a smile that nearly made Dean's knees weak. The things that guy did to his body... Dean hadn't felt anything like it in the longest time.

"Dean, hi!" Cas exclaimed, walking over to meet him. "I, uh, was actually on my way to the crew room to find you." His cheeks tinged the slightest pink as he glanced down to the floor and back up to Dean, and Dean's stomach tied itself in knots as he took in the image.

"Oh! Well then... should I be flattered?" he asked cheekily, and Cas flushed a furious scarlet as he coughed slightly and averted his gaze from Dean's eyes.

Dean laughed; the guy was fucking adorable. "I'm just messing with you, Cas." As a strange look crossed Castiel's face, Dean backtracked. "Is it okay if I call you Cas?"

Castiel immediately looked guilty after he heard the question. "Oh, no, it's not that. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it seem like I didn't want you to call me that," he clarified. "I usually don't like it when people call me Cas unless I'm close with them or know them well, but it's fine by me if you'd like to use that nickname."

Dean smirked knowlingly. "Does that mean you'd like to get to know me better?" he inquired, praying that the desperate hope he was feeling for some reason didn't express itself in his voice.

Cas once again blushed deeply as he cleared his throat. "Well, uh, maybe. I guess. Yeah," he admitted. "Is that something you want?"

Dean felt his face begin to warm and internally cursed, attempting to suppress the slight color that was no doubt creeping along his cheeks. Apparently it was his turn to blush. "Yeah. I'd like that." A relieved expression crossed his face as Cas grinned. Dean began to walk in the direction of the crew room with Castiel alongside him. "So, Cas, I couldn't find a playbill of anything I've seen with you in it, but I figured I'd have you sign my work binder, if that's okay with you. I take that thing everywhere. Besides," Dean paused for a moment as he rolled up his shirt sleeve, exposing the faded signature, "this has almost washed off already." The mutual smile that spread across both of their faces was nearly instantaneous.

"Yeah, of course I'll sign it!" Castiel agreed eagerly. The pair walked together slowly, making small talk about the show as they approached the crew room. Apparently Meg had been by while Dean was at the stage to dismiss the crew members for the day, because there was nobody from the crew left. Dean and Cas continued to chat as they walked across the spacious garage room to where Dean had left his bag.

"So that's why you got promoted to crew chief?" Cas asked, chuckling.

"Yep," Dean replied, unzipping his bag and removing his white binder, placing it in Castiel's outstretched hand as Cas removed the same Sharpie he had used to sign Dean's shoulder from his pocket. "The original crew chief, Azazel, was being a total dick on our first day, so I told him to shut the fuck up and get back to work. Crowley happened to be passing by the room and noticed, and when Alistair wound up saying something about how he didn't have to do anything because he was in charge, Crowley wound up offering me the guy's job. It was hysterical!" Dean had been looking up in recollection when he told his story, so by the time he looked back down, Cas had finished signing and was slipping the binder back into his backpack. "Thanks," he told Cas, and they both smiled.

"Anytime," Cas replied smoothly. "I'm actually a bit late for a get together with my friend Jo, so I'll be going now. See you tomorrow?" His question came off as a bit hopeful, as if he didn't know how much Dean wanted to see him again the next day.

"Of course," Dean replied. "I'll see you tomorrow then." Seeing as how they were now friends, Dean wanted to hug Castiel goodbye, but it seemed too forward in his mind, and besides, he had no idea what that kind of close physical contact would do to him, so he settled for outstretching his hand, and Cas reached out and shook it. Cas's hand felt like it belonged in Dean's, and Dean had a difficult time trying to get himself to let go, and he saw that Castiel's expression had grown serious just like his had. Dean's phone loudly vibrating in his bag interrupted the moment, and the two men broke apart awkwardly.

Dean cleared his throat, stepping to the side as he picked up his bag and fished his phone out of the small outer pocket. A small window on the screen read that he had a new text message from Sam. "That's my brother," Dean told Cas, beginning to back away towards the door. "I'm meeting up with him at my apartment, and then we're going for dinner. I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Bye!" Cas called as Dean left through the side door to the garage. Dean walked a few feet out into the parking lot before opening the text message from Sam that said he'd be at Dean's apartment in twenty minutes, which gave Dean just enough time to get back. Or so he thought; the walk took slightly longer than planned, and by the time Dean arrived at the front door to his apartment, Sam was waiting outside.

"Took you long enough," Sam greeted Dean jokingly. The brothers shared an embrace before Dean unlocked the door to his apartment and entered, Sam trailing behind.

"Let me just get changed out of my work clothes," Dean told Sam, who obligingly pulled out his phone and flopped down on Dean's couch to wait for him. Dean entered his bedroom and left his bag on the bed as he quickly changed into a clean outfit, throwing his work clothes in the laundry basket he kept behind the door of his bedroom. Grabbing his bag and walking back into the living room, he sat down onto the couch next to Sam, who looked up curiously.

"So, do you remember that guy who I took notice of in that one show we went to see together last year?" Dean asked him.

"Hmm, dark hair, blue eyes, and awesome voice?" Sam's ridiculous capacity for remembering details never failed to astound Dean.

"Yeah, him. I looked into him afterwards and found out that his name is Castiel Novak. Anyway, he's the lead in the current show I'm working at, and I met him and talked to him and stuff. He's a great guy. I even got him to sign my binder, check it out." Dean pulled out his binder from his bag and handed it to Sam, who looked at the cover and burst out laughing. "Wait, what's so funny?" Dean asked.

"Did you even look at this when he signed it?" Sam asked him. Dean frowned, and took the binder from Sam's hand, glancing at the cover and expecting to see the same signature that Castiel signed onto his bicep. It was there, but written underneath it in small handwriting was Cas's cell phone number. Dean blinked in astonishment, then grinned. He had gotten Cas's number without even asking on their second day of talking. Score.

"I actually had no idea that he added his number underneath it, not that I'm complaining," Dean told Sam, who smirked.

"Dean, is there something more to this guy that you're not telling me?" he teased. Dean playfully smacked his shoulder and put the binder back in his bag before standing up.

"Not at this point, and whether or not I want there to be is none of your business, buddy," Dean retorted, grabbing his keys out of his bag before walking towards the door. "Now shut up and let's go to dinner. Bitch."

Sam grinned. "Jerk," he replied, before picking up his phone off the coffee table and getting up to follow. "Someone's got a major crush," he murmured on his way past Dean and out the door, and he jumped ahead quickly before Dean's outstretched arm could connect with his back. Dean sighed to himself as he locked the door and followed Sam down the stairs into the cool evening air. As much as it worried him to admit it to himself, Sam was totally right.

* * *

Castiel was familiar enough with the blocking of the scene at this point – it may have been only the end of the first rehearsal they ran the scene at, but he had been there all day – to know that when he heard footsteps on the stage behind him at the end of the scene, something had gone dreadfully wrong.

He wasn't sure he wanted to turn, but when he eventually did, he wished he hadn't.

His cousin, the inimitable Gabriel Delacroix, was dancing across the stage in the most eye-searing jumpsuit Castiel had ever seen, using the door that Castiel helped break a few days previously as a partner. The jumpsuit was perhaps the most disturbing aspect of the tableau Gabriel was making – clearly first put together in the eighties, it was absolutely awful. The colors were terrible, all neon oranges and purples and pinks in some kind of psychedelic cloud formation, splotched with bright green flowers, and it was clearly made for a woman.

There was only one way to respond to this kind of lunacy, and that was how Crowley responded from the audience: "What in bloody Hell are you doing, Delacroix?"

Gabriel simply grinned. "Those dancing were thought to be insane by those who couldn't hear the music!"

Castiel covered his face with his hand and sighed. His cousin was brilliant, both in academics and in music, but he was absolutely insane. Castiel had been dealing with this for much of his life, and moving to the same city as his cousin had only made it more apparent to Castiel that there was no hope whatsoever for any kind of normality for him.

Another set of footsteps rat-a-tatted across the stage, and Castiel looked up to see the stage manager, Meg Masters, absolutely radiating a white-hot fury at Gabriel. Gabriel was still dancing, and Meg turned to Castiel and asked, "Who the fuck is this idiot stealing shit from Props and Costumes?" She looked very much like she would be all-too-willing to gut several people at once, simply for stress-relief.

This was the point where Gabriel tripped off the edge of the stage; he had been spinning his door in something similar to a tango before he realized there was simply nothing left to dance on. The door cracked underneath him in a loud snapping sound, and Castiel's hand returned to his face.

Crowley was laughing hysterically at this point, and even his laugh sounded British.

"That's my cousin," Castiel admitted, mumbling.

Meg actually sighed. "I'm sorry for you and your family. Thanksgiving must be a bitch." There was a pause, and Castiel peeked out from behind his hand in time to see Meg direct her attention to Crowley. "Get this asshole off my stage," she said, sounding frustrated. "Why is he even here?"

"He's the best bloody guitarist in Manhattan, Miss Masters. Unfortunately." Crowley looked at her with the arrogance born of long years spent in the industry. "Therefore, I recommend that you not castrate him."

"He better be," Meg warned. She was much younger than Crowley, but she had a legendary reputation of her own – she took no prisoners, and she was quite prideful. Castiel admired that in her, a little, even though it made her almost entirely unlikeable to most.

Gabriel finally surfaced, climbing back onstage. "The door's a wreck," he said, grinning madly.

Of course, this had to be the moment that Dean appeared onstage, leading a younger – though taller – man. "Yeah, Sammy, lemme just –" He stopped dead when he saw that Gabriel had a chunk of wood hanging from his shoulder, looking down at the wreckage on the floor off the stage.

"That better not be my fucking door," he said, his voice cold.

Castiel sighed. "Unfortunately, it appears to be."

"Fuck," Dean replied, grabbing his head with his hands. "Fuck my fucking life." He walked to the edge of the stage, passing close to where Castiel was standing. They passed through each others' personal space quickly, but Cas felt it, his warmth close, and slightly terrifying. Castiel turned to follow him with his eyes, jamming his hands into his pockets as Dean leaned over to look at the broken door.

"Sorry about your door, bro," Crowley said, his accent twisting around the last word.

Dean tensed and glared – Castiel could tell even from behind – at Crowley. "Keep this asshole outta the crew rooms, or I swear I'm gonna break him."

Crowley simply raised an eyebrow and then languidly returned his attention to Gabriel. "Bring that leotard back to Costumes, and then come back and take the door to Props, Delacroix."

"Fine, fine," Gabriel said, making a grand sort of a gesture. Then he began to strip right there onstage, worming his way out of the jumpsuit in a few long movements. Castiel looked away, out of common courtesy, but when he turned his glance back, he saw Gabriel exiting backards, his hips swaying and his eyes on the man Dean had brought with him. The guy was looking back like he had never seen another human being before, and when Cas saw Gabriel wink at him, he groaned, silently wishing the man luck if his cousin had set his sights on him.

Cas watched the moment end just as Dean turned back to the man. Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel saw Dean stop and kind of tense before continuing.

"Come on, Sammy, tongue back in your mouth, let's get on with the rest of the tour," Dean said, and the two made their way offstage, opposite the way Gabriel had.

* * *

Dean sagged a little once he yanked Sam off the stage. He knew Sam could see it, knew that Sam would never let it go, but he didn't care. He was utterly, utterly fucked, honestly, because he couldn't even be properly pissed off about that idiot in the leotard breaking his motherfucking door - seeing Castiel Novak all embarrassed and sweet was almost worth it.

"Okay, so that's Castiel Novak, right? The one with the eyes?" Sam was quiet. "Have you called him yet?"

"No," Dean admitted, trying to stay closed-off.

"And why the fuck not?" Sam demanded. At Dean's hesitance to answer, his eyes bulged, and then he burst out laughing. Dean glared at him, wondering what the hell he found funny, before Sam calmed himself down enough to utter a question. "You're… you're actually nervous, aren't you? Dean fucking Winchester is too nervous to call someone up and ask them out. That is rich."

"I'm not fucking nervous. Shut up," Dean seethed.

Sam chuckled. "Don't even try to lie to me; I saw the way you bristled when the two of you nearly made contact when you passed him on the stage, and I saw you looking at him the entire time you were pissed off about the door. You know I know you better than that, so don't even try to get out of it."

Dean sighed dejectedly. "Whatever… I don't even know why I'm nervous."

"It's probably because you actually like him, a lot, and you're afraid he'll say no." Sam immediately knew that he hit the nail on the head when recognition flashed through Dean's emerald eyes. "I knew it. Okay, listen. His fuckhot cousin aside, he seems like a great guy and he seems just as nervous about being around you as you are of him."

Dean leaned against the wall. "I guess I just don't think it's possible for someone like Cas to be interested in someone like me, is all."

"Well, we can't have that," Sam said briskly, and Dean abruptly found out that his health-nut little brother had a grip like a freaking vice. Sam pulled him back toward the stage, and eventually Dean stopped struggling.

Castiel was still there, having a hushed conversation with Crowley. The cut of his profile in the sharp bright of the house lights was entrancing, just a little, so Dean can't be blamed for not stopping Sam before he was able to say: "Hi, I'm Sam, Dean's brother. He's too nervous to call you, so here ya go."

He let go of Dean's arm and headed offstage to where Dean knew Gabriel went. Bitch.

"Uh, hi," Dean said.

"Hi," Castiel replied. "So..."

They were saved, however, by Gabriel walking out from backstage... opposite where Sam just went. Dean took one look at him in his candy-cane boxers and burst out laughing.

When he recovered, he saw Castiel smiling too.

"So what did your brother mean, that you were too nervous to call me?" Cas asked. Dean felt himself starting to flush and cursed internally, once again attempting to repress it.

"Um, uh, nothing, he was just… you know what, I'll call you later, okay? I should find him before he causes trouble or something." The excuse was weak, but he figured it would hold, or at least that Castiel would get the idea that he was uncomfortable.

Cas scratched his head. "Uh, sure," he replied hesitantly, turning to where his cousin was standing on the stage. "God dammit, Gabe, go get some clothes on or something, please…"

As Dean walked off after Sam, he heard Crowley's hysterical, rather British laughter echoing through the theater.

A few hours later, he found himself sitting on his bed, staring at his phone in frustration. "God dammit, Dean," he said to himself angrily. "Pick up the phone and dial the fucking number." His brother's interference had led him to the conclusion that he should probably just man up and call the guy already, and, well, he had told Castiel that he would, so he didn't want to go back on his word. He had been trying to bring himself to call Cas for the last half hour, but each time he came close, his mind threw out scenario after worst-case scenario of how things could all fall apart if things actually managed to be taken further into a possible relationship.

Finally, the thought flashed through his mind that he could just ask Cas out to coffee, as friends, and that nothing had to come of it, and that it would be good to have a social life outside the occasional one-night stand, so he finally brought his shaking hands to his phone's keypad and dialed the number that Castiel had written on his binder. His finger lingered over the call button, and he shakily pressed it, bringing the phone to his ear before quickly yanking it away and ending the call right before it started ringing.

"Fuck!" He sat on the edge of his bed and angrily slammed his phone onto the soft carpeted floor in frustration. He briefly registered relief that he didn't have hardwood floors in his apartment before he flopped down backwards onto his bed and moaned in despair. Things weren't going to go anywhere with Castiel at all if he couldn't bring himself to call the guy and explain why he was avoiding him, and ask him to hang out sometime. Why was he so afraid?

Dean attempted to refuse to admit the truth to himself, that he was afraid because he liked Cas a lot, so much that he was actually afraid that the guy would say no. He sat up, sighing to himself, as he gave up trying to deny it. He hadn't been this afraid to ask someone out since, well, never. He tried to get the thought in his head that he wasn't even asking Cas out on an official date, but that didn't even offer him any consolation.

He got up, grabbing his phone off the floor before walking into the bathroom, placing the phone down on the counter before grabbing the edge of the vanity as he looked up at himself in the mirror. "Okay, you know what? Fuck you and your psych-out bullshit. I'm going to pick up the phone and call the hot actor and ask him out, because God damn it, he signed my fucking bicep." It dawned on him that telling his own reflection this didn't actually mean it was going to happen, but he finally grit his teeth and growled angrily before picking up the phone, going to his past calls, and hitting the send button on Castiel's number before he could stop himself, lifting the phone up to his ear.


	3. Laserlight

**Chapter Three: Laserlight**

"Okay, so what exactly is the problem?" Jo asked, flopping down on Castiel's couch and pulling herself up into a cross-legged position. Cas sat down on the floor in front of her, running his hands through his hair in despair.

"Alright, so remember the hot crew chief guy I told you about that tripped over me in the hallway and then had me sign his bicep?" At Jo's eager nod, Cas continued. "Well, I met him again and we were talking and it was awesome and then he took out his work binder for me to sign because the autograph washed off his arm, so I signed it and wrote my number underneath it and put it back into his bag before he noticed it because he was telling me how he got the crew chief job, so he must not have seen the number until later. Anyway, earlier today, I think he was avoiding me for some reason, and then his little brother came right out and said that Dean was too nervous to talk to me. And then I asked him what his brother meant, and then Dean just got really awkward and told me he'd call me later. So now it's later and he still hasn't called, and I'm just worrying what it is I did wrong that made Dean nervous."

Jo huffed in frustration. "First of all, shut up. It was most likely not something you did wrong. Every time something with a hot guy happens and something goes wrong, you always blame yourself. It's… well, it's unhealthy. So stop it. There has to be a logical reason why he's nervous. Maybe because, um, he likes you?"

"No," Cas replied without hesitation. "People like Dean don't just… like me."

"Yet another instance of your illogical insecurities," Jo retorted in exasperation. "I love you like a brother, Cas, but I'm getting sick and tired of trying to make you see how amazing you are."

"Being amazing to a friend is one thing, but it's another thing entirely to be amazing to someone like Dean."

Jo smacked him right upside the head. "Okay, stop it right now. Stop putting him on a pedestal and acting as if he's some ultimately higher being that you could never hope to please. It's unrealistic, untrue, and not to mention, stupid."

Castiel rubbed his head where it was still smarting from Jo's strike. "Ow, okay, jeez…" He looked at Jo and they both burst out laughing. "Alright, I get it, Jo. I guess I'll just have to wait and see if he calls me and then we'll go from there."

"Yeah, and if you go out somewhere, your ass had better bring him to my store," Jo warned with a jokingly menacing tone. Cas laughed and promised he would, and right then, his phone rang.

"OH MY GOD!" Jo exclaimed, snatching Cas's phone from the coffee table and literally throwing it at him. She bounced up and down in excitement as Cas glared.

"It might not even be him, Jo, relax," Cas said, before flipping open his phone. "Hello?" he answered.

"Hey… Cas? It's Dean," came the voice from the other end. At Jo's obnoxious squeal of joy, Cas shushed her.

"Hey, Dean, yeah, sorry, that's my friend Jo, who was just leaving," Cas told him, looking pointedly at Jo. She huffed, before getting up and leaving through the front door, grumbling that he had better bring Dean to her store under her breath. Castiel chuckled, sitting back down on his couch. "Anyway, what's up?"

"Not much, just lazing around my apartment, so I figured I'd give you a call," Dean told him, and Cas could hear the smile in his voice. "Sorry if it's a bit late."

Cas glanced up at the clock on the wall, seeing that it was just after ten. "No, not at all, I'm usually up late," he admitted truthfully. "So what made you want to call?"

"Well, I said I would, didn't I?" Dean reminded him cheekily. "Besides, I figured I should sort of explain what my brother was saying, because it must have been a bit awkward for you; God knows it was for me with him putting me on the spot like that."

Cas smiled. "I'll admit that I was wondering why you were sort of avoiding me at first," he replied.

He could hear Dean gulp. "Yeah, well, uh, Sam wasn't lying… I was kind of nervous." Castiel could hear in his voice that he was kind of nervous to admit that, as well.

"There's no reason to be nervous, Dean," he replied. "If anything, it's me who should be nervous."

"Why do you figure?"

Cas stood up and began to pace nervously as he felt his pulse quicken. "Because… because I was kind of wondering if you wanted to come get coffee with me tomorrow. I mean, not like, a date, just like, hanging out before work, I guess, and my friend Jo wants to meet you and she works there, so I thought that would be pretty cool…" Castiel trailed off. Fuck. What the hell did he just do? He actually asked Dean out. Granted, he said it wasn't a date, but still. He was about to take it back hastily and say it was a bad idea before he heard Dean's response.

"Yeah, of course! Definitely," Dean replied in earnest, and Cas felt himself breathe a sigh of relief. "What time tomorrow and where?"

Castiel glanced at his schedule. "Well, rehearsal starts a bit early tomorrow, so around 9:30? And it's the Starbucks near my apartment building; I'll text you the exact location." He grinned to himself, excited about the fact that Dean actually agreed.

"Sounds great," Dean replied happily. "So… I'll see you tomorrow at 9:30. Good night, Cas."

"Good night, Dean," Cas replied, and hung up the phone. He sank down onto his couch in elation, thrilled beyond belief that it went so much better than he would have imagined. His stomach did flips at the memory of the happiness he heard in Dean's voice as he agreed to go out with him. What the hell was this man doing to him?

* * *

The next morning, Cas was up bright and early, pacing nervously in his living room. He texted Jo to let him know that he and Dean would be there and she texted back frantically, asking to know all of the details of their phone conversation. Castiel just sighed, telling her that there was nothing much other than him asking Dean out to her shop and Dean accepting.

Yeah, he was nervous. Whether or not they were going as friends, they were still meeting up outside of work, and that made it more personal than their other meetings. Yet, even though Cas was nervous about it, he was also happy with the way things were turning out. He was looking forward to getting to know Dean better and spending more time with him, if that's the direction it headed in (which he fervently hoped it did).

When the time came to get ready, Castiel dressed a bit more stylish than he usually did, slipping on a sapphire blue cardigan (which he hoped Dean would notice brought out his eyes) over a plain white t-shirt with a deep v-neck, finishing the ensemble with a pair of black jeans that fit snugly around his thighs and sort of shimmered when looked at in the right light. He examined himself in the mirror, deciding at the last minute to comb his hair into a side-parted style, approving of the way it fit well with his choice of outfit.

Finally, 9:15 rolled around, and Cas figured he should get to the coffee shop early so that he could talk to Jo for a bit before Dean came along. By the time he got there, it was ten minutes before Dean was scheduled to arrive, and he tapped his foot nervously as he stood at the counter waiting until Jo came in from the back room.

"Damn, Cas, you look gorgeous. Dean's going to be swooning over you," she complimented, and Cas blushed. "Good, get those cheeks some color before your man comes around." She winked, causing Castiel's cheeks to tinge an even deeper shade.

"He's not my man, Jo," Cas reprimanded her halfheartedly, vaguely recognizing the fact that he hoped he would be someday. He subconsciously pushed away the thought, keeping in the back of his mind the probability that things would actually work out with him and Dean, which was next to none. However, it couldn't stop the gradual warmth of hope that he could feel settling in his chest.

The bells tied to the door of the shop jingled, and Cas's heart skipped a beat as he turned around, only to find a short, blonde man that he didn't recognize.

"Oh!" Jo exclaimed. "Cas, this is Adam. I told you about him last week, remember?"

Castiel nodded in recognition. "Yeah, the guy that you bumped into at the supermarket, right?"

Adam smiled and leaned over the counter to place a chaste kiss on Jo's lips. "Yep," he answered happily. "As you can see, things have sort of… progressed from her accidentally running me over and making me drop my entire armful of groceries." Jo smacked his arm playfully, and Adam grinned, extending his hand to Castiel. "You must be Castiel, I've heard a lot about you."

Cas raised an eyebrow. "Oh, have you?" he asked, with a pointed look at Jo.

Jo blew him a raspberry. "Shut up, Cas, you're my best friend, of course I told my new boyfriend about you. After all, if he's gonna be dating me, he should get used to being around you, right? Plus, if he's not nice to you, his ass would be kicked to the curb faster than the bag of Cheetos fell to the floor when I accidentally rammed him with my shopping cart," she threatened playfully, and Cas couldn't help but grin.

The bells on the door jingled again, and Castiel could tell without even turning around that Dean was right on time. He turned slowly, and he saw Dean's eyes widen a little when he gave Cas a once-over, his emerald eyes lingering on Castiel's sapphires as he let out a breath. "Wow, Cas, you look great."

Castiel pretended not to notice the sly, knowing look that Jo and Adam exchanged, as he grinned. "Thanks, Dean," he replied warmly, turning so that Jo and Adam were in full view. "Dean, this is my best friend Jo, and her boyfriend Adam. Jo, Adam, this is Dean, he's the crew chief at the show I'm working on."

Dean cordially shook Adam's outstretched hand, and took Jo's hand and kissed it. Jo immediately blushed a furious scarlet and giggled. "Such a gentleman!" she complimented.

"Hey, watch it, buddy," Adam joked lightheartedly.

Dean laughed. "Easy there, Adam, I don't play for her team," he reminded, and winked. Jo burst out laughing, and Castiel chuckled at the exchange as Adam shrugged his shoulders, smiling.

As a few more customers walked into the shop, Jo shrugged. "Gah, I should probably get back to work, shouldn't I. What can I get you boys? The usual for you, Cas?"

"Yep," Cas replied. "Dean, what do you get?"

Dean thought for a moment. "I don't get coffee often. What's your usual?"

"Double skim cinnamon hazelnut latte with extra whipped cream," called Jo from behind the counter as she whipped up Cas's usual. Dean turned to Cas with an expression of horror on his face.

"Does that even have any coffee in it?" he asked. Cas flushed, and Dean smirked. "I'm just kidding Cas. Just give me your best stuff, Jo. Black."

The two went to sit down as Jo brought them their coffee cups before continuing to serve the customers at the counter. Dean looked across the table at Cas and gave him the most breathtaking smile as he brought the cup to his lips.

Castiel proceeded to thank whoever could hear his thoughts that he wasn't standing when he saw it, or his knees probably would have buckled underneath him. He returned the smile to the best of his ability, and sipped his latte as casually as he could muster, doing his best to stop his hands from shaking.

"I feel a bit underdressed now that I've seen you," Dean admitted. Cas took in what he was wearing; it seemed like work attire for him, a t-shirt and cargo pants, but they were going to work after this, so it wasn't a surprise, nor did Cas expect Dean to go over the top with dressing to meet him, anyway.

"It's totally fine, I mean, we're going straight to work," he replied. "So, what do you think of Jo?"

Dean laughed. "She's freaking great. Adam too, they're both awesome." He paused for a moment, looking Cas straight in the eyes. "So I guess you're still wondering why I was too nervous to call you until last night."

Cas blinked. He was trying to figure out how to get around to approaching that subject, but Dean was being pretty straightforward about it. "Oh. Well, yeah." He felt his pulse quicken.

Dean put down his coffee cup. "I'm just going to be honest with you, Cas. I like you. Probably more than I should at this point. And I'm not sure how I feel about that." Cas's heart skipped a beat. Jo was right. Butterflies exploded in his stomach and his face grew hot as he looked Dean in his gorgeous green eyes. His voice caught in his throat; he didn't know exactly how to voice the fact that he felt the exact same way. Gauging his reaction, Dean continued. "And I guess I was nervous because I thought that you might not like me back."

Cas searched for the right words. He saw Dean tense, his eyes beginning to look downcast, as if he thought Castiel was preparing to let him down easy. Cas immediately started talking to save the situation. "Dean… Jesus Christ, Dean, just look at you. How could I not like you back?" Dean looked up and beamed as Cas continued. "You're attractive, intelligent, easy to talk to, fun, and from what I've seen so far, you're just a great guy all around. I've been crushing on you since you tripped over me with that door in your hands." The blatant honesty felt weird coming from Castiel's mouth. He wasn't used to being completely honest with anyone other than Jo, and it felt strange to pour his heart out like that, which he probably wouldn't have if Dean hadn't told him he liked him first. He felt the smile pulling on the edges of his mouth as he gradually returned Dean's jubilant expression.

"I'm not saying we have to jump into anything, I just want to keep going the way we are now and see where it takes us. In my opinion we have great chemistry already," Dean told him, grinning elatedly. Cas couldn't help feeling like he was flying as he took in Dean's expression. Dean was like radiance incarnate burning down on him and filling him with warmth. Castiel nodded, not even being able to bring himself to speak.

With that out of the way, topic of conversation quickly turned to small talk; Dean told Cas stories about his brother and Castiel regaled him with tales of his cousin Gabriel's various idiotic antics. The time flew by, and before they knew it, they were more than a half hour late for work. Dean glanced at his phone, noticing the time, and immediately jumped out of his seat.

"Oh, shit, it's like 11:30!" Dean exclaimed, and Cas felt his heart practically stop as he scrambled to collect his belongings as he and Dean hightailed it out the door. As they ran down the street toward the theater, they were laughing hysterically, unable to take their current situation seriously with the happiness the two were currently both feeling.

* * *

The atmosphere in the theatre was oppressive silence. Dean could feel it even before they entered the stage doors, and he glanced at Cas. There was tension in his shoulders and Dean thought that he should've been paying better attention to the time – he'd been wearing a watch, he always wore a watch, he always needed to know what time it was, so why had he let this happen? Cas didn't deserve this kind of thing, and what was probably going to be one hell of a talking to from Crowley. Despite his initial kind disposition, when he was crossed, Crowley was so famous as a hardass that they he was known as "the King of Hell."

Crowley wasn't waiting for them behind the stage doors, but Meg was. And she looked  _pissed_.

"Did you happen to find some magical way to have a rehearsal without a crew chief or the lead?" Meg had a sugar-sweet smile on her mouth, but the look in her eyes turned it into a baring of teeth. "Because if you have, you better fucking tell me."

"I'm sorry, Meg," Cas murmured, looking away. "Dean and I met for coffee, and we lost track of time."

One of Meg's eyebrows arched sharply, and she looked at Dean appraisingly. That was clearly a "did this asshole get laid last night?" look if ever there was one. "Musta been some coffee, then, sweetcheeks."

"I should probably give him back, then," Castiel said, voice cool even though his face was turning bright red. He turned to Dean. "It was a lovely morning, Dean. I'll see you later – I should probably go face Crowley's wrath."

"We can handle that right… bloody... here."

Dean whirled around to find Crowley standing behind them out on the sidewalk, hands shoved down into his pockets. The fury in his expression raised the hair on the back of Dean's neck – _this_  was the King of Hell.

"I'm sorry, sir," Castiel said quietly.

Tension thrummed through the air as Crowley examined Cas with his eyes. Dean felt something like protectiveness flood him for a second – this wasn't Cas's fault, Cas didn't wear a watch, Dean should've at least looked to check what time it was.

"You'd best be. I've lost half an hour, Mister Novak. If this had been a paid performance, you'd be fired. As it stands, I'm watching you. Very closely." Then he turned to Dean, and Dean almost blanched at that intensity. "As for you, Mister Winchester, you'd be best to remember the same. The only reason I called you in for this job is because you've got a damn good reputation. And I can take that away, if you cross me. So I suggest you don't even dream of it."

"Ooh, you get me all tingly when you get like that, Crowley," Meg deadpanned.

"Take your crew chief and go, Masters. I'd hate to lose a stage manager to an ill-placed fist to the solar plexus." Crowley passed by Dean and Castiel, who parted to let him by, and he fixed Meg with a glare. "And don't play nice."

"I'm surprised you recognize me being nice,  _sir_."

Crowley sneered at her and turned down the hallway, glancing pointedly back at Cas. Cas looked at Dean with an apology in his eyes, and Dean nodded. Cas followed Crowley out.

This left Dean alone with Meg, whose smirk said more than words ever could.

"Don't even start with me."

"Only Crowley could insult you and compliment you at the same damn time, Winchester. And I like your boy. He's sassy." Meg pushed off of the wall. "He stickin' around?"

"He's not  _my_  boy," Dean hedged. He certainly  _wanted_ Cas to stick around, but that was more Cas's decision than anything else, and Dean didn't want to hold out hope and then get himself heartbroken over it when it inevitably fell apart.

Meg started for the crew room. "C'mon, I know better than that. I've got a pair of working eyes. And we've got work to do. Follow or die."

The sad thing was, Dean was pretty sure she meant every word of that last sentence. He followed her out anyway, thoughts of Cas still invading his mind. Despite the trouble they both got into, he couldn't shake the feeling that Cas was burning brightly in his life, and he wasn't sure how he was going to handle that yet.


	4. Fearless

**Chapter Four: Fearless**

"Wait, he said he likes you back? That's great, Dean!" Sam exclaimed. Dean had met him midway between his apartment and Sam's dorm at NYU, and they had walked back to the theater together where Dean was doing some extra work over the weekend. The actors didn't work on Sundays (not yet, anyway; once it got closer to the show things picked up in pace), and the crew didn't have to be there unless told otherwise, so Dean had come in on his own to get a few extra things done in the crew room with the help of his brother, one of which being fixing the door that Castiel's rather obnoxious cousin had landed upon. "So the next logical step is officially asking him out on a date, right?" Sam asked, while holding the hinge onto the frame as Dean screwed it in.

Dean hesitated, putting the screw gun aside for a second as he adjusted his safety goggles. "Well, yeah, that's the next  _logical_  step, but that doesn't mean I need to take that step right now…"

Sam huffed, giving Dean his best bitch face. "Bitch, please. Don't you dare put this off because of that stupid paranoia that's no doubt running through your mind right now. He likes you back. There's no possible reason to postpone this any longer. Besides, you want things to move further, don't you?"

Dean sighed. Sam was always quick to call him on his bullshit; it was one reason why he gave such great advice. Anything Dean could possibly throw out there at any time to mask how he was really feeling was no match for Sam's brotherly intuition. "Yeah, of course I do, Sammy," Dean replied. "It's just… there's something about him. It makes it difficult for me to just… move things along. It's not that I'm afraid he'll say no… it's just that I'm afraid to mess something up." He picked up the screw gun and Sam braced the hinge in place as he continued fastening it to the frame. A few minutes of silence passed before Sam threw his hands up in the air, groaning in frustration.

"I don't even know what to do with you, Dean," he told his brother in exasperation. "I do my best to get you to step it up and be confident, and every time I think it's working, you wind up shooting yourself down. You can't keep letting what's happened in the past get in the way of your happiness anymore. I won't let you."

Glancing up at his brother (Sam was a head taller than him, after all), Dean sat down on a stool at the work bench and put his head in his hands. "I know, Sammy. I really do. It's just difficult."

"I know it's hard, Dean," Sam began, placing his hand on Dean's shoulder in a show of support. "That's why I'm here to help you. Always have been, always will be, because that's what brothers do, right?"

Dean pulled his brother down into an embrace, sighing into his shoulder. "Yeah, Sammy. Thanks."

Sam quickly yanked himself out of Dean's embrace and jumped up. "Now that this door is fixed, it's time to contact Cas and get your ass over to his place to ask him out. And there's no way in hell that he'll say no so you have nothing to worry about. Got it?" He spoke in a pep talk tone, trying to get Dean pumped up, and it worked a little bit.

"Got it!" Dean replied enthusiastically, standing up and grabbing his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. He picked up his phone and shot Castiel a quick text as the two brothers left the theater and walked down the street, headed in the direction of Jo's Starbucks, because Dean knew that Cas lived relatively close to there.

_Hey, Cas, is there any way I can come to your place just for a little bit? I have something to ask you. – D_

By the time they arrived at Jo's Starbucks, the reply text had arrived.

_Yeah, definitely! I'm in the apartment complex four buildings down from the Starbucks where we met on the other side of the street, room 304. ~Cas_

Dean smiled and pumped his fist in the air. He led Sam to Castiel's apartment building and stood outside the front entrance. Turning to his brother, he gave a nervous smile. "I got this, right Sammy?" At his brother's enthusiastic nod, Dean turned to the front door of the apartment complex. "I can do this!" He exclaimed as he pulled open the door, walking inside. A split second later, he came right back out, an expression of despair on his face. "Sammy I can't do this!" he whined.

Sam rolled his eyes, grabbing his brother and yanking open the front door, shoving him inside. "Yes, you can, and you're going to. Now go." Dean whimpered almost pathetically, begging Sam with his eyes not to make him do this, and Sam could see the nerves clearly reflected on his expression. Groaning in frustration, Sam dragged his brother all the way to the elevator and pushed the button, shoving Dean inside and pressing the button for the third floor before stepping back. "I'll see you after Castiel says yes," he told his brother matter-of-factly, crossing his arms and trying to keep himself from laughing at his oh-so-macho brother's wimpy expression.

Dean tapped his foot nervously as the elevator rose, leaning back against the railing for support. The elevator bell dinged as the doors opened onto the third floor, and Dean walked down the hallway to room 304. He hesitated, clenching his hands into fists in frustration as his stomach did acrobatics and his heart thudded in his chest. He shook it off in frustration, gritting his teeth before cracking his knuckles and quickly rolling his shoulders in what he figured was a masculine way (apparently acting like an alpha male gave him confidence of some sort) before striding up to the door of room 304 and knocking three times in quick succession.

"Coming!" Castiel's muffled voice came from somewhere inside the apartment. Dean's stomach practically jumped into his throat when he heard Cas's silky baritone. Even from far away and through walls, it still gave Dean goosebumps. The door opened, and Dean gulped when he saw Castiel in only a small tank top and a loose pair of sweatpants. "Sorry to keep you waiting; I had to throw on a shirt," Castiel told him timidly. The sight of Cas in comfortable clothing was arousing on its own, but the fact that he was shirtless only a minute earlier was a bit much for Dean to take in, and he felt his work jeans grow a bit tighter and uncomfortable.

Mentally steeling himself, Dean tried to make his voice sound as smooth as possible. "Yeah, no problem, Cas," he replied, but his efforts were thwarted when his voice cracked, in a terribly not-smooth way. Internally smacking himself on the forehead, Dean felt his face begin to grow warm, begging himself not to blush. He cleared his throat, smirking in amusement at his situation, playing it off as well as he knew how.

A brief look of sneaky recognition flashed across Castiel's face, as if he knew he was making Dean nervous, but just as quickly as Dean thought he saw it, it was gone, making him wonder if he was just seeing things in the first place. "Come in," Cas told him, opening the door wider and stepping further inside the apartment. Dean entered, and as Castiel closed the door behind them, he took in the front room of the apartment. It was a great mix of neutral colors, with a silvery gray carpet and black leather furniture, and the decorations spaced around the room along with the warm, dim sort of lighting made it look like the home of a professional interior decorator.

"Wow, Cas, your place looks great," Dean complimented him. "I feel like I live in a pig sty after seeing this."

Castiel started to flush. "I, uh, I may or may not have done some emergency last minute cleaning and vacuuming when you asked if you could come over for a little," he admitted shyly, and Dean chuckled to himself. Whether or not Cas cleaned up a bit, his apartment still looked great.

"So, you're probably wondering why I asked to stop by," Dean began.

"Wait, hold on, sit, please," Cas told him eagerly, and the two took a seat on the (rather comfortable) couch. Dean breathed in deeply, thinking his pulse couldn't possibly get any faster, before continuing.

"Well, I was talking to my brother, and I sort of realized that since, you know," he scratched his head awkwardly, "since I like you and you like me and everything, that maybe… Maybe the next logical step is to take you out, so I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner with me tonight and then go on a walk through Central Park, and then maybe afterwards come to the theater and I can show you some of the really great set pieces we're working on, and… and it would be an official date. Our first."

Castiel was silent for a few seconds, and Dean almost felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach as he jumped to conclusions, but then Cas broke out in a huge smile. "Of course!" he answered gladly. "Sorry I hesitated, I just… found it a bit hard to believe that you were actually asking me out. I'm definitely glad you did though," he corrected hastily, thinking Dean might wonder if he was surprised in a negative way. "Yeah. Dinner and the walk and looking at the set sounds great," he told him.

Dean felt warmth spread through his chest as he beamed. "Awesome, that's great!" He suddenly had the strangest urge to jump up and down but immediately shoved it out of his mind. That would be ridiculously girly, and especially not in front of Cas. "Well, my brother is waiting outside, so I guess I'll go bring him back to his dorm and then get ready for tonight," Dean told Cas.

"Yeah, sure," Castiel replied. "I have to get ready now, too, so I'll see you later. What time?"

"I'll meet you here at 7?" Dean asked.

"You got it," Cas replied, seeing Dean to the door. As the door shut behind Dean, the urge became too much for him, and he jumped up and down twice and voiced his internal shouting of jubilation in a loud whisper, before remembering where he was. He cleared his throat, turning around awkwardly to make sure nobody was there, and, satisfied that nobody had seen his unnaturally feminine outburst, walked to the elevator and went back to meet Sam outside.

Upon seeing Dean's jubilant expression, Sam had only one thing to say as he rolled his eyes at his brother. "I told you so."

* * *

The second his apartment door closed, Castiel jetted into his bedroom and snatched his phone off the bedside table. He quickly pulled up his contacts and pressed the send button next to Jo's name, ecstatically bouncing up and down as he listened to the ringing.

"Hey, Cas?" came Jo's voice from the other end of the line. "What's up?"

Castiel couldn't even contain himself, finally giving voice to the joyous screaming that had been going on inside his brain since Dean had asked him out. "JO! Jesus Christ, Jo, Dean actually asked me out on an official date and it's happening tonight and it's going to be amazing and and AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M GOING TO WEAR BUT I'M REALLY HAPPY!" He flopped down on his bed, basking in the glorious feeling of knowing what was going to happen in just a few short hours. Maybe Dean would even kiss him good night!

"OH MY GOD CAS, that's great!" Jo exclaimed, and Cas could hear a shuffling, as though Jo was pulling on a jacket. "I'll be over in like two seconds. You're gonna look great when I'm done with you."

A few minutes later, Cas opened the door and nearly fell over backwards when Jo launched herself into his arms in a tackling hug, and they both screamed in joy together and laughed hysterically before Jo pulled Cas over to his closet.

"I laid out a few things that I thought I might be able to pull off," Cas informed her, pointing to the bed where a few outfits rested.

Jo stalked over to the bed intently, glaring at each outfit as though it had committed a personal crime against her, before she pointed at the first. "A bit tacky." The finger moved over to the second outfit. "That screams 'trying too hard'." Finally, she appraised the third. "Ehhh, not so much. The colors don't quite flow together. Besides, I want to put you in something a little more… appropriate."

Cas blinked. "More appropriate how?"

Jo walked over to his closet and smirked. "More appropriate as in more likely to make Dean want to do things to you that are  _so_  not appropriate." The wink that she sent Cas nearly made him groan. What had he gotten himself into?

By the time Jo had finished dressing Castiel to her liking and strategically styling his hair, it was nearly 6:30. She finished off her ensemble with cologne she found hidden in Castiel's dresser. "Do you even use this?" she asked, spraying it in the air and sniffing it peculiarly. "Oh my God, this smells like sex. Wear it."

"I don't actually remember buying that – pffuh!" Castiel spat and coughed when Jo grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, dousing him in cologne and accidentally spraying his face.

"Oops," Jo said entirely unapologetically. Castiel grimaced. He was glad he had a friend like her, but damn, she was unforgiving when it came to fashion. But it wasn't like he could take that for granted; it was kind of the reason why he called to consult her in the first place. "Okay, now back up," Jo instructed, and Castiel did as he was told. "Now spin." Cas spun obligingly. "Good. You look phenomenal. Now get ready to knock this guy dead."

"I hope I don't knock him dead, that would certainly ruin the evening…" Cas mused sarcastically.

"Oh shut up," Jo replied, laughing, before pulling him into a hug. "Have a great time tonight, Cas."

"You know I will," he answered, and she was gone shortly after.

* * *

Dean stepped out of the elevator nervously, glancing in a decorative mirror that was on the wall of the apartment building's third floor hallway. He thought he looked okay, as well as he could make himself look, anyway. He was freshly shaven, wearing a plain white short sleeved button down shirt underneath his jacket, with brown slacks. He was a simple guy when it came to dressing up, and the occasion didn't call for anything too dressy, so he played it down. As he stepped in front of Castiel's place at 304, he quickly blew a breath into his hand and sniffed it, deciding it smelled okay and wishing he had a breathmint. You know, just in case.

After three short knocks on the door, it immediately opened. Dean's jaw nearly dropped to the floor when he took in the sight of Castiel. A blue and gray plaid button down accentuated the fierce blue of Cas's eyes, and it was completely unbuttoned, a slim white v-neck underneath drawing attention to his lean physique. When combined with the pitch black skinny jeans that drew attention to the muscles in his legs, he looked absolutely fantastic.

"Uh… Dean?" Cas asked, clearly amused. Dean shook himself out of his stupor, silently berating himself for losing focus when confronted with Cas's stunning visage.

"Oh, uh, sorry, hi Cas," he said sheepishly. "You… you look freaking amazing."

Cas blushed, reaching inside to grab his jacket before stepping out of the apartment and shutting the door. "Thanks… you do too," he replied, and was it just Dean or was Castiel admiring his muscles? The shirt Dean was wearing did fit rather snugly around his arms…

"So I figured we'd go to Olive Garden… it's kind of my favorite," Dean informed Cas. "Besides, there's one right near Central Park, so I figured that would be the best place to go."

Cas simply smiled widely. "Awesome, their breadsticks are to die for!" he exclaimed, pulling Dean into a hug. Dean felt his entire body tense despite himself, the contact was so sudden and close and... so  _good_. He forced himself to relax, hugging Cas back and inhaling deeply. It was then that the smell hit him.

"Holy shit, Cas," Dean told him, pulling out of the hug, "you smell fucking  _amazing_. What do you have on?"

Cas turned a furious scarlet. "It's, uh, something that Jo found," he said honestly. He didn't need to tell Dean that he couldn't remember where he'd gotten it and that Jo had found it in his dresser.

Dean grinned. "Well she has good taste, that's freaking incredible." At Cas's shy smile in return, Dean decided to move things along. "Let's get going," he announced, turning towards the elevator and waiting for Cas to join him before they walked side by side to the elevator and out of the building.

The walk to the restaurant was filled with small talk and tiny half-hidden flirtations on both parts, and by the time they got there, Dean was just itching to get Castiel across from him at a table so that he could stare into those intense blue eyes all night long. They walked in, and, glad that it wasn't that crowded for a weekend, were seated immediately.

"Hello there, my name is Bela and I'll be your server tonight," came the chipper voice of their attractive light brunette waitress. "What can I get for you boys?" She sidled alongside the table to stand near Dean, looking at him attentively and smiling in a way that made Castiel shift uncomfortably from across the table.

"Wine?" Dean asked Cas, who nodded. Dean turned to Bela, shifting his chair away from her just the slightest in a subtle attempt to make Castiel more comfortable with the obvious flirting Bela was trying to do with his date. "We'll have a bottle of your red Sangria and two glasses, and we'll place our orders after that's arrived," Dean said dismissively.

"Coming right up!" Bela said happily, scrawling down on her pad. She left, brushing past Dean's shoulder with her hips as she went, and Dean nearly burst into laughter at the dark expression that came across Castiel's face.

"If she keeps that up, the next thing she can get us is a different server," Cas gritted, and Dean imagined that his intentions were a bit more violent than a replacement waitress.

"Aw, come on, Cas, lighten up, she's harmless," Dean told him. "If it helps, I have absolutely zero interest and scooted back from her a little." When he saw Castiel's expression soften, a thought occurred to him. "You weren't… worried that I would be interested, were you?"

Cas looked down in shame. "Maybe a little," he admitted. "But look at her! She's one of those flawless Barbies. I couldn't hope to compete."

Dean laughed. "Cas, must I once again state that I don't play for that team?" At Castiel's silent grin, he continued. "And you really don't know how gorgeous you are, do you…" His question trailed off like the end of a statement, and Castiel blushed furiously before changing the subject.

Dinner went more smoothly than Dean could have hoped. Bela had stopped her flirting when she arrived back at the table with their wine and saw the look the two were sharing from across the table, and the way Dean ordered his meal without taking his eyes off of Castiel seemed to tip her off. Needless to say, she was very respectable for the rest of the evening.

The two were comfortable just talking to each other, telling stories about their lives and how they had gotten into their line of work, and every time Castiel smiled, Dean's heart skipped a beat. He recalled the time when he first observed rehearsal, and after Castiel and Anna's duet, Cas had been beaming. He remembered the feeling he repressed of his desire to be the one bringing that smile to Cas's face, and now he was. A feeling settled in his stomach that whispered of contentment, yet longed to be fulfilled even further.

When the check came, Castiel and Dean experienced one of those awkward moments where two people reach for it at the same time. Cas blushed slightly, before offering, "Do you want to split it fifty fifty?"

Dean grinned, grabbing the check and pulling out his wallet. "Nope," he replied smoothly. "I'm the one who asked you out, and it would be an honor to pay for it." Castiel smiled shyly, glancing down at his phone to check the time.

Bela came around to collect the check, before smiling at them both. "Pleasure to serve you, boys. Enjoy your evening." With that, she winked at Dean, looking knowingly in Castiel's direction, before scampering off. Dean just smirked. She was delightfully perceptive once she got past her initial desire to flirt, and Dean left her a generous tip.

As the two walked the few blocks toward Central Park, the air became sort of tense between them, as they breathed in the crisp night air and walked through the gate. Dean stopped before hesitantly reaching out and taking Castiel's hand in his own. He could audibly hear Cas's breath hitch, and Dean thought he may have been moving too fast.

"…Is this okay?" he asked softly, and he was surprised when Cas looked him straight in the eyes and nodded, the slightest hint of a smile playing at his lips, and he moved his hand so that his fingers intertwined with Dean's. Dean felt his pulse race as they walked into Central Park, speaking few words. By the time they reached the point where they planned to exit, they were content with the silence between them during their soft stroll. It spoke deeper than any words they could have said.

* * *

Castiel was laughing as Dean unlocked the door to the crew room, switching the lights on, before retaking Cas's hand and pulling him inside. "Dean, stop, or I'm going to stop breathing." Dean had been cracking him up with jokes since they headed out of Central Park in the direction of the theater.

After they removed their jackets and placed them on a stool, Dean seemed to smirk mischievously as though an idea had popped into his mind before Castiel yelped and jumped as he felt a poke at his right side. "Dean, what are you doing?" he asked, then yelped again and cackled as Dean poked his side again and squeezed it a little. At the mischievous look on Dean's face, Cas paled in mock horror. "Oh dear God, please no. I'm so ticklish. Please!" His final protest was taken up by hysterics as Dean tickled him mercilessly, bringing him down to the floor. "Dean – stop – please – Jesus Christ, Dean, stop!" Cas called throughout his laughter, and Dean's fingers finally stopped tickling him, as Dean laughed alongside him. Apparently torturing Cas was fun. Castiel sighed to himself; he knew Dean was just making them both enjoy themselves.

It was then that he noticed the position at which Dean had stopped. Castiel was laying down on his back from where he had fallen during Dean's vicious tickle attack, and Dean was positioned over him in such a way that their legs were nearly intertwined and had it not been for Dean's arms propping him above Cas, their chests would have been flush together and their faces dangerously close. Dean looked down suddenly, as if he noticed too, and then their eyes caught each other's attention. Castiel's breath hitched. If only Dean would close the remaining space between them and -

Dean cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably and standing up, reaching out his hand for Cas to take so that he could pull him up. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, and Cas could feel the tension crackling between them like fireworks. However, when Dean led him to the set pieces that were in progress or almost completed, he voiced no objection; that was the original plan for this part of the date, anyway. Castiel couldn't help but admire the set; Dean was great at his job and under his guidance, things were turning out great with the set and the crew. No wonder why Meg was so mad at them the other day when they were late.

"And this is the door that I nearly dropped on you and the one that Gabriel danced with and smashed," Dean told Cas playfully. "Sammy and I fixed it up good as new."

"Awesome, it looks great," Castiel told him truthfully, before turning towards Dean on a more serious note. "Dean... I had an amazing time tonight, really."

Dean smiled, leaning back against the work bench they were near as he took in the sight of the happy actor standing a foot away from him. "Me too, Cas, I'm so glad that I asked you out."

Castiel looked down nervously, almost in a way that made Dean dread what was about to come, in a way that Cas noticed the way his muscles tensed from where his arms were holding him up on the work bench. Cas steeled himself before asking the question that was on both their minds for most of the night. "Dean... where do you want us to go from here?"

The silence lasted nearly half a minute before Dean was able to reply. "I'll be completely honest with you... I don't really know what I want from this at this point."

A sharp twinge of pain hit Cas in the chest as he heard the words he didn't want to hear. "What do you mean? You held my hand, right? Doesn't that mean something to you? There has to be a step in the next direction."

Dean hesitated once again before seeing the worried look on Castiel's face, subsequently realizing what was going through Castiel's mind as he quickly jumped in to save the situation. "Oh, Cas, GOD no, trust me, it's not you." Immediately realizing that was the worst possible thing he could have said given the twinge that crossed Cas's features, he seemed to stop for a moment to struggle with the words. "Look. I'm going to be straightforward. I can't lie to you Cas. I'm scared."

A look of shock smashed itself onto Castiel's face.

Dean continued. "It's just... there's a lot about me you don't know yet, and I just don't want you to wind up being overwhelmed by the serious baggage that I'm carrying. Because Cas... I want this to go somewhere. But I don't want it to go anywhere if it's just going to come crashing down around us."

Castiel had no idea why, but for some reason this just brought up a strange sort of anger within him which he quickly felt rising to the surface. "Are you kidding me? You seriously don't think I'll be able to handle it? What, you're the only one who's allowed to have baggage? I probably have more baggage than you'd ever even imagine, Dean. And you know what? It scares the shit out of me too. The way I'm feeling about you is just so new to me that with everything that's happened I feel like things might close in on me and trap me there and I won't be able to get out. But you know what? When I'm with you, and we're talking or hanging out or having fun, I don't even feel scared. It's like you bring up this feeling of fearlessness in me, Dean. So I'm willing to give it a shot. Whether or not you are is the problem here." The end of Castiel's rant came off a bit harshly, so he wasn't surprised when Dean retaliated in his own defense.

"Hey, don't start yelling at me now like I'm doing something wrong. I'm only human and I'm allowed to be scared!" Dean snapped back, seemingly frustrated.

"Not when you don't have anything to be scared of, Dean! There's nothing you could possibly tell me about your past that would scare me away unless you were like a mass murderer or something but that's obviously not the case so don't go around acting like you're the only one who's been damaged, because you're not! You don't get to hide behind your feelings like they're going to hurt you when really all you're doing is nearly making yourself miss out on something that could be amazing!" Castiel knew from the look on Dean's face that he had him pegged. "So you know what, Dean? I want to give this a shot. When you're ready to stop worrying about absolutely NOTHING and give it a shot too, you can let me know. You know where to find me."

And as he turned to leave, Dean grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, crushing their lips together in a desperate, heated, passionate kiss.


	5. Touch Me

**Chapter Five: Touch Me**

It was as though fire shot through Castiel's veins as Dean's lips pressed against his, hard. He instinctively flung his hands up around Dean's neck as Dean's arms enclosed around his waist, pulling them in closer so that their bodies were flush against each other. It seemed like electricity was flowing through them, making their entire bodies come alive with the feeling of the other's lips against their own.

Dean pushed Castiel back until he collided with the edge of a work table, pressing the smaller man back in an expression of dominance. Cas groaned, loving the roughness and pressure of Dean's hips and chest against his own. Dean's tongue flicked out and ran along Castiel's lower lip, desperately begging for entrance, which Castiel granted, opening his mouth to allow Dean to explore his new territory. Cas let out a moan when Dean's tongue ran along the roof of his mouth before wrestling with his own.

Dean pulled back slightly, whispering huskily in Castiel's ear. "Do I seem scared now?"

"No," Cas breathed back, grabbing Dean by his collar and yanking him back, making their lips meet again. He was hyperaware of every single feeling assaulting his senses; Dean's heady aroma, the delicious taste of his mouth, and every single point of contact between the two. By this point, both of their pants had grown painfully tight, and Dean groaned in sexual frustration as he ground his hips down onto Cas, who was slightly bent over backwards over the work table. The new, rough friction on Castiel's clothed, straining erection caused him to let out an aroused grunt, before Dean pulled back slightly.

At the loss of Dean's mouth on his own, Cas let out a surprised whimper. "Let's get out of here," Dean told him, and Castiel clearly felt a twitch between his legs at the thought of what was to come.

"Yeah, we can't really do this here…" Cas stated, amused.

"Well, technically we can, but I just figured a bed would be a better place to do so," Dean elaborated, and winked. Cas felt the breath leave his body at the stunning sight of the gorgeous man in front of him, who he was going to sleep with. "Your place or mine?" Dean asked. There was absolutely no question in either man's mind about what was going to happen next, and they both could feel themselves tingle in anticipation.

"Yours," Castiel told him. If he was going to sleep next to Dean afterwards, he wanted to wake up the next morning in Dean's arms, in Dean's bed, in Dean's apartment. The thought sent a thrill through him, and he grabbed Dean's muscular arms, pulling him in for another heavy kiss before the two separated, snatching their jackets and pulling them on before taking off into the night, heading in the direction of Dean's apartment.

Due to unnecessary stops several times into the walk to give into the urge for a brief and intense kiss, the trip to Dean's apartment took a little bit longer than anticipated, and by the time they arrived, the two men's bodies were both tense in apprehension.

The second they were through Dean's apartment door, Dean slammed it shut behind them, grabbing Cas and shoving him forward, slamming him against the wall and pressing his body in as their lips met once again in a flurry of passion. Cas breathed in Dean's scent deeply, committing it to memory as he was pressed even more firmly against the wall when Dean's hips once again ground down on his own. Cas moaned into Dean's mouth; the friction between their groins being too much to handle silently. Cas pulled his unbuttoned shirt off of his shoulders, leaving only the white v-neck and Dean's button-down in between their skin. His hands scrambled to unbutton Dean's shirt, and when his usual nimbleness failed to manifest itself, Dean grabbed both sides of his own shirt and ripped it open, buttons scattering over the carpet as he let it slide off. He fumbled around with the bottom of Castiel's tee as he pressed their lips together once again before breaking off, pulling the shirt up and over Cas's head when he raised his arms. Both of their eyes raked over their shirtless forms, Cas appraising Dean's muscular physique and Dean appreciating Cas's lean form. It was only seconds before they were unable to resist coming together once again, hands running up and down their bare skin as their lips and tongues danced. The feel of skin against skin was bliss, and Castiel couldn't help but pull Dean closer to him, pressing himself even harder against the wall as their chests pressed together. Dean groaned, pressing his hips in once again, and Castiel felt as though he had never been more aroused in his life.

After only a few short minutes, Dean tore his mouth from Castiel's. "God, Cas... you're incredible," Dean told him breathlessly, and Castiel nearly teared up at the thought of this wonderful man thinking so highly of him. He yanked Dean back into him, pressing his lips to the other man's. Dean broke off suddenly, and bent down abruptly, wrapping his arms around Cas's legs and lifting him up. Cas squeaked in surprised, and then laughed, wrapping his legs around Dean's waist as Dean looked into his eyes and smiled before kissing him once again, carrying him down the hallway and into the bedroom. Cas yelped in surprise as the support of Dean's arms was lost when he was tossed onto the comfortable bed playfully, and Dean pounced on top of him. The playful air was immediately intensified as Dean stared into Castiel's eyes, green boring into blue, and Cas felt Dean's breath ghosting along his face. Cas growled, grabbing Dean's shoulders and pulling him down, once again initiating the sensual connection of skin to skin, mouth to mouth.

Before he could get any further, Dean broke away, and Castiel's whine turned into a sound of pleasure when Dean's lips met his throat. Dean kissed and sucked on Cas's neck, eliciting the most delicious sounds from the beautiful man underneath him. Cas cried out sharply when Dean nipped at his collarbone before kissing and licking away the pain. When Dean bit at the same spot again, Cas's sharp cry was one of euphoria. The tiny bit of pain quickly being soothed by Dean's warm mouth, along with knowing that Dean was marking him, filled him with ecstasy. Cas nearly yelled out in surprise and bliss as Dean rolled his hips down onto Castiel's slowly and sensually, alluding to what was to come while pressing and rubbing their now aching cocks together through the fabric of their pants. "Oh my God, Dean..." he breathed. "Mark me."

"Yeah? You want me to mark you, baby?" Dean asked, and Castiel felt the blood race through his veins when Dean used the pet name. He resolved to make Dean call him baby all night long. Dean obliged Castiel's request eagerly, biting down on the same spot for the third time, drawing out the most delectable sound from deep within Cas's throat. Castiel's pleasure brought forth an animalistic urge within him to please his man like his man was pleasing him, and in a sudden burst of strength, he flipped Dean off him and rolled on top of him, landing in the same position where Dean was just seconds earlier. Dean grinned, showing his pleasant surprise at the sudden turn of events, before reasserting his dominance by pulling Cas down for a crushing kiss. Castiel pulled his (unfortunately still clothed) legs from where they were intertwined with Dean's, moving higher along Dean's body until he was straddling the muscular v-line of Dean's hips. Cas placed both of his legs on either side of Dean's, and took the opportunity to roll his hips back and down onto Dean's pelvis, rubbing his ass over just the right place to make Dean's entire body tense up and moan into their kiss.

Castiel decided it was his turn to have a little fun with the other man's body, so he began kissing down Dean's chin and neck. Dean exhaled shakily as Cas continued blazing a trail of fire with his mouth down Dean's pectorals, stopping to draw out the most sensuous moans from Dean's vocal chords by running his tongue along the bud of Dean's nipple. Cas's lips trailed down lazily as he pushed himself further down on the bed to give him better access to Dean's body, his tongue outlining the prominent six pack abs and flicking out over Dean's navel. By the time he reached the wasitband of Dean's slacks, he could see a wet spot starting to form from Dean's no doubt leaking dick.

Castiel's hands groped with Dean's button, undoing it deftly before guiding the pants and boxers lower on Dean's hips at an agonizingly sluggish pace. Dean grunted in frustration, reaching his hands down in an attempt to push the pants down himself, but Castiel smacked his arms away. His azure eyes, darkened with lust, looked up the sculpted body before him to Dean's face, and when he saw the same expression of desire mirrored there, he ran his tongue over his lips, slowly, sensuously, causing Dean to groan loudly as Cas continued the slow drawing down of Dean's pants.

All of this together was nearly too much for Dean to handle. Cas was such a tease. The waistband finally traveled down to the base of Dean's shaft, and Castiel didn't lift it up as he continued lower before yanking them down the rest of the way, and Dean's cock sprang free of its cloth prison, slapping against his stomach loudly. The way Cas's eyes bulged at the sight of Dean's very impressive manhood was nearly comical, and Dean grinned. "Like what you see?" he asked cheekily.

Cas nodded, sliding Dean's pants down the rest of the way and taking Dean firmly in his hand. He jerked him up and down a few times, and Dean rolled his head back, unable to believe the intensity of the sensation. Castiel couldn't resist any longer, taking Dean into his mouth expertly. He heard Dean's moans above him, which only spurred him on further, as he leaned in at the right angle and took Dean all the way down in one quick motion.

"Oh dear fucking Lord, Cas!" Dean called out, his hands flying down to entangle themselves in Cas's hair. Cas pulled up before he choked, swirling his tongue around the head and sucking hard, his cheeks hollowing with the pressure. "Jesus, Cas, how the hell are you so good at this, holy Christ almighty, Cas..." he trailed off, occasionally mumbling nonsense as Castiel went down on him. Castiel was absolutely blowing Dean's mind.

Castiel pulled back, letting Dean's leaking cock flop down onto his stomach, and Cas licked down the shaft, his tongue making its way down to Dean's balls. Dean called out Castiel's name as Cas lavished them, running his tongue over the sack as he took one and then the other into his mouth. They were too big for him to fit both, though his attempt at doing so brought the most dirty noise out of Dean. Dean's hands tightened in Castiel's hair as he pulled the other man higher up until Cas's attention returned to his cock. Cas once again took it into his mouth, grabbing the base with his right hand and pumping along to the rhythm of his mouth and throat. Every time he dipped further down and took Dean all the way into his throat, Deans hands clamped down, forcing Cas's head down even further, which would have been borderline abusive if Cas wasn't insanely turned on by Dean's rough behavior.

"Oh my God, Cas, yes, take that big cock," Dean breathed, and Cas merely hummed deeply in reply, the low pitch sending vibrations through Dean's dick that drove him absolutely crazy. When the urge to please Cas in return took over, Dean pulled him off of his cock, noticing that Cas had apparently removed his pants sometime during the mind-blowing blowjob he gave Dean, and Dean could see his perfect cock leaking between his legs as Cas pumped it slowly.

Dean leaned down, grabbing Cas's cock from out of his hand. "Alright, your turn." But as he leaned down, bringing his mouth closer and closer to the mouthwatering dick in front of him, Cas pulled away slightly.

"No," Cas murmured, moving his hips away from Dean's mouth. "I want you in me.  _Now._ " The last word came out as a husky growl, and it made Dean's cock twitch.

Dean grinned, the little twist of lips he could tell that Cas liked. "I like the way you think."

He rose up over Cas, leaning toward his bedside table drawer and retrieving the lube and condoms from it. Then, he sank back down, the box of condoms next to Cas's hip and the lube tight in his own hand. His eyes took in the sight of Cas's cock again, and he was pretty sure it was perfect. Elegant and curved just right, and his mouth watered for it.

But Cas wanted to be fucked, so Dean would oblige him.

And that meant prep. Dean was, to put it a little crudely, a 'big boy,' and he knew it. He liked fingering his partner open slow and steady, so he could be sure they could take him without getting hurt - the prep was almost as good as the sex that came out of it. Although, a lot of them still hurt anyway, because... well, he was a  _big boy_.

He popped open the lube and squeezed some onto his hand. He moved slowly, nuzzling against Cas's thigh as his fingers approached his lover's hole. When he circled a finger around that dusky ring of muscle, Cas jerked under him.

"Sensitive, huh?" That was hot. He pressed in gently, blunt-fingered hands sure and steady. Cas squirmed around him, pressing back onto the intrusion, insides rippling around Dean's finger.

He withdrew halfway and pushed in again, just as gently, but crooked his finger to graze against Cas's prostate. Cas spasmed under him, his hips jerking with the sensation. Dean grinned against Cas's thigh before he removed his finger completely.

"More," Cas murmured. "Please."

Who was he to deny him? Dean slipped in two fingers this time, repeating what he'd done with just the one, and Cas seemed to like this even more.

"Like being filled up, baby?" he asked, voice low. Cas's exasperated moan was all the answer he needed. "Good."

It went like that, gently pressing and stretching, until Cas was whimpering with need, and Dean had three fingers buried to the second knuckle in his ass. Dean leaned up, sprawling over the other man. "You ready, baby?"

Cas nodded, eyes screwed shut, and drove himself further down on Dean's fingers. "Please."

Dean nodded, withdrawing his fingers, and Castiel whined at the loss. Dean's fingers inside him, pleasuring him, was nearly more than he could take. God knows how much Dean would make him scream. Dean ripped open a condom packet, gently rolling one on before adding a bit of extra lube. Because if there's one thing he learned over the years, it's that you could _never_  have too much lube. As he positioned himself at Castiel's entrance, Cas looked up into his eyes, and the blatant trust that shone out from the sapphire irises made Dean's blood flow hot. "You sure?" Dean asked, and Cas nodded reassuringly.

"Dean... I want you inside me. Make me yours," Castiel told him, and that was all Dean needed to start.

"God, Cas," Dean groaned as he started sliding in. "So fucking tight, baby."

Castiel nearly screamed in pain. Dean was so big, and he felt like he was being split in half. The head of Dean's cock slowly slipped in past the ring of muscle, and once it was in, Cas couldn't help but feel the ecstasy hidden behind all the pain. He made a noise high in the back of his throat and pressed into the long, slow thrust. Laid out like he was underneath Dean, he looked like a little piece of heaven; hair sex-mussed and eyes dark. It took everything Dean had to keep it slow as he eased in, but he managed, somehow, his arms shaking as Cas clenched around him, all velvet heat and so, so good.

"Relax, baby, relax," Dean mumbled, lightly nipping at the mark he'd made earlier. "Easy, just breathe."

Cas moved in a sinuous arch, forcing Dean deeper inside until he was fully sheathed, hips pressing inward in an attempt to get Cas as adjusted as possible. Castiel let out a dry sob, but clamped his legs high around Dean's hips, as if to keep him from pulling out.

"Fuck," Dean gasped, barely able to keep himself still. "So hot, Cas... so tight."

Cas screwed his eyes shut, unable to speak, doing his best to deal with the burning pain, but the pleasure was starting to set in even further, and he nodded, hitching one leg up even higher, changing the angle and drawing whimpers from the both of them.

Dean dropped to his elbows and kissed a line down Cas's jaw. "Tell me when you want me… want me to move. God, Cas, I want you so bad... Fuck, ever since that first time we met in the theater I wanted to drag you off into an unused room and make you scream my name."

"Move," Cas said firmly, voice crackling as his eyes opened to meet Dean's, boring in intensely. "Now."

"Giving orders, baby?" Dean growled, running his teeth down Cas's neck and over his shoulder. "I was never really good at following orders. But maybe I can make an exception."

He slid almost all the way out, arms shaking, and Castiel's eyes rolled back in his head as the pain started to gradually fade, and Dean pressed in again, just as slow as the first time. Dean wanted this to last for as long as it could; wanted to watch Cas fall to pieces right there on his sheets, and he wanted, more than anything, to have been the best fuck Cas had ever had.

And Cas looked so God damn pretty writhing under him, eyes turned dark with that ring of perfect blue and lean muscle rippling under the skin; this was an image he wanted to memorize.

"Fuck, Cas, you're gorgeous," he murmured, kissing him on the mouth as he bottomed out again. "Perfect."

"Fuck me," Cas growled, hands coming up to scratch up Dean's back and then down to his ass. Dean knew there would be thin pink lines in the morning, but the noises Cas was making mattered more than that. He wasn't even sure if some of the higher pitched, keening ones were even human.

The next thrust was quicker, and the slick slide was just right for Cas, because he jerked on Dean's dick, that leg sliding out and up and over Dean's shoulder. The new angle was even better, and how the hell was Cas so flexible?

"God, baby, that's so good, that's fucking hot," he stuttered as he leaned to run his hands through Cas's hair. "So fucking flexible... fuck, so many things I'm gonna think about doing to you now that I know." He punctuated the line with a short, sharp motion of his hips that made Cas whimper. "Gonna be touching myself to that for days, baby."

Cas's mouth was hanging open and his eyes were fluttering, flashes of black and blue underneath eyelashes that ought to be criminal. By now the pain had completely faded, and with every thrust, Dean's girth rubbed against his prostate, sending the most  _filthy_  feelings through him. He moaned loudly, not caring if any of Dean's neighbors happened to hear, scratching again down Dean's back.

Dean couldn't help himself by now, and he moved faster, dragging against that spot as often as he could as Cas scrabbled at his back and shook underneath. It was beautiful - more than beautiful. Dean had been with some damn attractive guys in his day, but none of them had ever fallen apart like this, wordless and without reservation. It was like Cas didn't care how vulnerable he was making himself in this act, completely consumed in trust and sensation.

Dean wasn't sure how he should deal with that, but now he was losing control; he licked his way down Cas's chest, almost bending double as he still pistoned his hips and drew more of those exquisite noises out of him.

The two writhed together on Dean's bed, all sense of time lost as they were lost in each other. Dean found just the right angle to slam into Cas over and over until Cas was calling out his name, nearly screaming in pleasure. Dean pulled Cas into a different position, changing the angle of Castiel's leg in order to allow for deeper penetration, and the noises that came out of Cas's mouth confirmed that Dean had made it even better for him.

"Dean," Cas breathed, the consonant almost disappearing underneath the raggedness of his voice. "Dean, please."

"Wanna cum, baby? God, you're gonna look so fucking good. Fuck, Cas, you're beautiful." Dean wasn't sure why the last bit slipped out - he was a dirty talker, but while it was true that Cas was beautiful, especially like this, he didn't usually say something like that to anybody he slept with.

He pushed the thought out of his head and reached down to wrap his hand around Cas's cock. It was throbbing in his hand, and Cas cried out when Dean's lube-slicked fingers wrapped around his shaft.

"C'mon, baby, cum for me," Dean gritted out, forcing himself inside Cas harder and harder, his hand and his hips falling into a rhythm. "Wanna see you cum with me in you."

White exploded in Castiel's vision as he came harder than he ever had before, the first spurt shooting over his shoulder, his release striping both their chests and his eyes rolling back in his head as he let out a scream that Dean swallowed with a kiss. He shook under Dean as Dean worked him through it, stroking him and fucking him as he spasmed around Dean's cock.

When Cas came down from the aftershocks, pushing Dean's hand off of his dick, he looked sated and content. A fire still burned, though, as he noted that Dean was still hard inside him. He shuffled his hips and clenched on purpose, his eyes dark. "Dean," he growled, his voice low, "now would be a good time for you to cum, too."

He punctuated that statement by trailing his hand through the mess between them and licking it off his fingers.

Dean gave a full-body shudder; this was absolutely filthy and absolutely perfect. Cas was looking at him as his tongue trailed over and between those marvelous long fingers, eyes as intense as they'd been in the middle of the act, and that - his eyes, his hands, his cum - pushed Dean over the edge. He leaned over, biting down on the mark he had made on Cas's collarbone, as he came, calling Cas's name as his lover's body drew his orgasm out, milking him for all he was worth.

"Cas," he gasped, elbows giving out and dropping him square onto Cas's chest. Panting heavily, the two remained in that same position, Dean lying on top of Castiel, his softening dick still inside him, and their cum-slicked chests sliding against one another, rubbing in Cas's release. Breathless, exhausted, and absolutely mind-blown, it took a minute before Dean turned his head to capture Cas's lips in a tender, post-coital kiss.

"Jesus, Cas… That was probably the best sex I've ever had," Dean said honestly. He brushed a stray hair off of Castiel's sweat-soaked forehead before holding the back of his head and pulling him in for yet another kiss.

Cas just smiled widely in response. "Trust me, same here. You're… you're amazing, Dean." Dean could feel his heart skip a beat and his stomach flutter as those words came out of his lover's mouth. Looking down at the truly beautiful man underneath him, he felt a feeling of content settle in him. The feeling was almost unfamiliar at this point, and he had nearly given up hope that he would ever find someone who made him feel the way Cas did. As this ran through his mind, he rolled off Cas, finally pulling out of him and removing the condom to throw it in the trash as he got out of bed to grab a towel for himself and Castiel off of a shelf in his closet to clean themselves up.

Cas deftly caught the towel that Dean tossed him and began to wipe his chest down, and Dean finished cleaning up, throwing the towel off in a corner before taking Castiel's hand and helping him up so that they could pull up the corner of the covers and slide into bed together. Dean got comfortable, curling to the side and putting one arm underneath Cas's head and pulling his waist close with the other. Cas settled in as though he'd been doing this with Dean for the longest time, and the thought of that sent another shockwave through Dean's heart as Cas laid his head comfortably on Dean's bicep and took the hand that Dean had rested around his waist in his own, intertwining their fingers delicately.

"Dean… thank you," Cas whispered.

"No, Cas, thank  _you_ ," Dean replied softly. "You were so dead on back at the theater, I was being stupid. I can't believe that this almost didn't happen because of me," he confessed. "And I'm so glad that you called me out on everything, and the second you did, I realized that I wouldn't, no, I  _couldn't_  let you slip through my fingers. I… I don't really think I've ever felt like this before." Once the words were out of Dean's mouth, he felt his heart start to beat faster and his stomach flip, nervous for what Castiel's response to Dean's feelings would be. When Cas's fingers tightened around Dean's, he nearly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Dean… I don't even think you understand how much I feel the same way," Cas confided, and Dean's heart soared as he beamed, even though Cas couldn't see it from their current spooning position. "I just want you to know that wherever you want to go from here, I'll be right there. I… From what I can tell, we both have things that we're having trouble dealing with." Dean's smile faded at the serious turn in the conversation as Cas continued. "But I want you to know that whatever it is, nothing is going to scare me away. You can be completely honest with me and I will never once judge you. I promise you that."

Dean felt his eyes start to well up before forcing down the emotions that were threatening to break the surface. "I… Thank you, Cas. So much. I promise you the same thing. And… I thought you should know that where I want to take it from here is another step forward. I want us to be official. Cas, will you be my boyfriend?"

Cas stopped breathing for a brief second, and Dean's blood ran cold as he almost assumed the worst before Cas immediately flipped around and grabbed the back of Dean's neck, pulling him in for an intense, exhilarating kiss. "Yes," Castiel answered after he pulled away. Dean leaned his forehead against Castiel's and they stared into each other's eyes, smiling wide, before Cas turned over and settled himself backward into Dean again.

"Good night, Cas," Dean whispered, kissing the back of his head and holding him close. Cas murmured in reply, already slipping into the deep sleep that comes after an exerting physical activity such as what they had performed, and Dean's hand once again found its way to Castiel's as their fingers intertwined, and he drifted off to sleep with the thought in his mind that their bodies fit together perfectly like pieces of a puzzle. Or two pieces of the same heart.


	6. Taking Chances

**Chapter Six: Taking Chances**

When Castiel first woke up, he was at first disoriented from a dream, not remembering what the dream was and not remembering where he was. The feeling of Dean's chest underneath his head and arm wrapped securely around his waist reminded him, however, and he sighed in contentment. The sheets had slid down during their sleep, and lay collected around their waists, and just the contact of skin to skin in the warm morning air felt like velvet to Castiel. Laying here like this was just a perfect moment for him. Everything felt like it had finally fallen into place and all of the hardship Cas had endured was finally paying off. He felt safe, protected, and, dare he say it, loved.

He immediately shook that thought out of his mind. They had slept together once and just started officially dating, there was no way in hell he was getting anywhere near the L-word anytime soon. He blinked his eyes open slowly, and the early morning sunlight made him squint a little bit as it came through Dean's curtains. He glanced over to the far side of the room, noting that they had just under an hour until they needed to go to work, and felt relieved that he had woken up early enough to make sure they weren't late, because neither of them had set an alarm the night before, as exhausted as they were from their physical exertion.

Plus, Meg and Crowley were livid when they were a half hour late last time; God knows what would have happened if they accidentally slept in.

Cas glanced up at Dean's face, and seeing the calm expression on the perfectly chiseled face made Castiel feel like he could have stared forever.

Dean sighed in his sleep, pulling Castiel more tightly to him and turning over to collect the smaller man in both of his arms. Cas grinned, an ear to ear smile that he couldn't help just letting wash over his face. Because this, this was everything he'd been waiting for. Waking up and feeling like that was the best feeling in the world.

When Dean had turned over, he had put his face in direct sunlight, so as it permeated his closed eyelids, he yawned, releasing Cas for a brief second to stretch his limbs out. Cas turned over, bringing them face to face as Dean rubbed his eyes with balled fists in the most adorable way before opening them. The tiniest little smile graced the edges of Dean's mouth, and in a way, it was more of an expression of happiness than any of his usual grins or smiles. The small expression said that he was so content that he was fine with being subtle about it. And if Castiel had learned anything about Dean Winchester, it was that subtle was not his forte.

"Mmm… morning, baby," Dean said softly, still waking up. Castiel's heart fluttered even more than it had the previous night when Dean had used the pet name. That was just during sex, and knowing that he still wanted to call Cas that was simply exhilarating. Dean pulled him closer, gently laying one hand on his bare waist as he delicately pressed his lips to the smaller man's, and it was almost exactly like the kiss they shared right before going to sleep. It was tender, and full of caring, and it made Castiel tingle.

"Good morning, Dean," Cas replied, smiling out of the kiss. "How did you sleep?"

Dean's small smile turned into the familiar signature full blown grin. "Like a fucking baby. I haven't slept that good in years, if ever." Cas nodded, still smiling, feeling the exact same way. "What about you, Cas?" Dean asked.

"Well, let's see, I had sex with my boyfriend for the first time last night and fell asleep in his strong arms, and woke up feeling like the happiest person in the world. I'd say it was pretty damn good," Cas replied, and Dean's grin widened.

"That's not the only thing that was pretty damn good, Cas," Dean reminded him, and that was the first time that Castiel noticed that he had morning wood. No surprise, either, the sex the night before was the best he ever had. Dean glanced down pointedly, and Cas blushed as he saw that Dean was in the same condition, but in order to make it to work on time, they didn't really have time to do anything about it.

"Yeah, well, just because I had the best sex of my life with you last night doesn't mean that the next hour will stretch itself out so that we have time to screw around before work," Cas joked, and he burst out laughing at Dean's childish pout as he stuck out his lower lip and folded his arms across his chest.

"Fine," Dean grumbled. "Want some breakfast?"

The mere mention of the word made Castiel's stomach grumble. "Dear God, yes," he answered, reluctantly extricating himself from his boyfriend's arms in order to get out of bed and pull on his underwear. "We certainly worked up an appetite last night. I'm pretty sure if I wasn't so tired I probably would have devoured everything in your kitchen."

"Not before me," Dean replied, and they both chuckled. Dean mimicked Cas as he got out of bed and put on only his boxers, gathering the scattered clothing from around the room and tossing it onto the bed.

Dean led Cas out of the bedroom and down the hallway into the combined kitchen and living room area of his apartment. "I'll see what I have in the fridge." Cas nodded, following Dean to the fridge and admiring the view as his boyfriend opened it and bent over to inspect the contents. "Hmm, how does pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon sound?"

Cas's stomach grumbled loudly once again. "Fucking perfect," he replied eagerly, before glancing to the side and blushing furiously when he noticed their shirts laying against the wall by the door, and seeing the various buttons from Dean's shirt that he ripped open scattered all around. Dean glanced up, and, noticing Cas's blush, followed his gaze, and smirked.

"We're not exactly the most patient people when it comes to removing clothing…" Dean pointed out, and Cas simply nodded, unable to settle down the blaze in his cheeks.

As Dean made breakfast, barely any conversation was made. The two were content in the silence, loving the morning feeling of waking up with one another. Dean poured the pancake batter onto his electric griddle once it warmed up, and began to scramble the eggs in a pan on the stove. From his place sitting at the counter, Castiel had the perfect view of Dean's mostly bare, muscular physique in only his boxers, making him breakfast. The sight was contentment, and happiness, and perfection incarnate. Unable to resist, Cas stood up, walking around the bar part of the counter to the small area in the kitchen in which Dean was cooking, coming up behind him while he scrambled the eggs to wrap his arms around his waist, leaning in and placing a gentle kiss in the crook of Dean's neck.

"Mm, hey there," Dean said softly, and Cas kissed his neck again. "What's this for?"

Cas smiled. "This is for being amazing. For everything that happened last night and for making me breakfast, and for looking absolutely flawless in just your underwear. I don't know how you do it."

Dean chuckled, lifting the pan off the stove to continue his work with the spatula. "I'm sure you must know how I do it, because you do it too," he replied cheekily, and Cas beamed as Dean continued. "But if you keep that up, I won't be able to get breakfast made because I won't be able to control myself, and then we'll be late for work. And we both know the consequences of that." Cas pouted, pulling himself away and moving to walk around the counter again, and, in a burst of playfulness, smacked Dean's ass at the last second as he left. Dean jumped and yelped, before grinning widely.

It was the most amazing breakfast that Castiel had ever eaten. Not only was Dean great in bed, he was also great in the kitchen. Good was an understatement. The eggs were delicious, the bacon was the most perfect level of crispy that Cas had ever seen, and the pancakes were fluffy and positively out of this world. He couldn't even speak for half the meal because he was too busy enjoying Dean's handiwork, and Dean felt himself warm with pride. He could satisfy his boyfriend in a lot of ways, apparently.

By the time they were done with breakfast, they were a bit short on time. Castiel went back into Dean's room to retrieve his clothes, but as he started to pull his pants on, Dean stopped him.

"Wait, you wore those last night," he said. "I'll give you a pair of clean sweats and a t-shirt for rehearsal if you want." Castiel paused, mulling it over, before the appeal of wearing his new boyfriends clothes won over, and he nodded eagerly. The clothes were a bit baggy on him, but that was to be expected, seeing as Dean was more bulky with his muscle. The thought crossed his mind that people might notice him wearing baggier clothing than usual, and since he would be arriving with Dean, they might put two and two together, but it didn't faze him at all. If anything, he wanted people to know. He was damn proud that he and Dean had progressed this far in their relationship. Showing off the fact that he was Dean's boyfriend would be a privilege.

As he glanced in the mirror in Dean's bathroom to make sure he looked okay (Dean had already told him he did, but he wanted to see for himself), he forced himself to fix his still sex-messed hair and noticed the edge of the mark Dean had made the previous night through the side of the v-neck in the white t-shirt. He pulled the edge of the neck over, running his finger over the tender spot on his collarbone, admiring the mark, and Dean came up behind him, chuckling as he clasped his hands around the smaller man's waist, nuzzling his neck lovingly.

"Sorry if I left too much of a mark," Dean told him, and Cas immediately shook his head.

"No, Dean, trust me… it's hot." The two laughed, and as they turned around to get ready to leave, Dean grabbed Cas and pulled him into a slow, sensuous kiss, and Cas reveled in the feeling of his boyfriend's protective arms around him as they shared a moment.

Castiel turned himself around, leaning back into his boyfriend's strong, broad chest. "Dean?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah, Cas?"

"I... I know that this is kind of strange, but... I just wanted to let you know that I want us to take a chance. For something bigger than what we have. Maybe not now, but sometime in the future. Because I don't want to let this go until we take that chance."

Dean sighed. "Trust me, Cas, I want that just as much as you do." He kissed the top of his head before pulling him around for another slow kiss.

Unfortunately, Cas's phone beeped at that moment, reminding them that they had to be at work in ten minutes. Castiel sighed, pulling away, and grabbed Dean's hand, lacing their fingers together as they left the apartment and began the walk to the theater.

* * *

Dean couldn't help but glance at Cas as they walked in through the stage doors. They weren't late, but Meg already suspected them of being a thing, and Dean wasn't sure he wanted to know what would happen if she received confirmation of the fact. Castiel didn't seem nervous, his hand tangled with Dean's, and that calmed Dean's worries a little.

Meg was there, lurking, and Dean wondered if she had anything better to do than lurk. Like, you know, manage the stage.

"Morning, boys," she said, smirking. Her eyes drifted downward to their joined hands, and Dean held a little tighter. He didn't have anything to prove to Meg. "Have a nice night?"

"You could say that," Cas said, not rising to her bait. "And yourself?"

"Sad and lonely and bitter as usual," she chirped, voice too perky for the words she was saying, but that was just how Meg was.

In the brief lull that followed, Dean looked to his left to see Sam coming down the hallway toward them. Dean felt an eyebrow shoot upward - what was Sam doing here?

"And by the way, I'm keeping your brother on crew. He's good with his hands, and, for some reason, doesn't despise every breath Gabriel Delacroix takes, so it works well enough." Meg grinned at Sam and headed toward the crew areas.

Sam's lips twitched ruefully. "She knows what she's doing, huh?"

"I'd say so. She's good at it." Dean looked after her, and couldn't really bring himself to be annoyed - except for that comment about Gabriel. "And what was she talking about, about Gabriel?"

"I… might have given him my number, and that may or may not be how she got in contact with me?" Sam's guilty smile said it all. "I mean, they hate each other, but it's pretty cool here and it would only be on the days I don't have class, right?"

"Samsquatch!" Speak of the bastard, and so he shall appear. Gabriel walked over to them, his eyes skating over Dean and Cas as if they weren't anything special.

Cas raised an eyebrow. "Pit's not due in for another hour, Gabriel."

Gabriel's grin was toothy. "The early bird catches the tall drink of water." He turned back to Sam. "How you doin'?"

"Oh, shut up," Sam grumbled, reaching over and gently cuffing Gabriel's head. Gabriel slid up against Sam's side, and Dean tensed, his big-brother instincts shifting into overdrive, but Sam didn't seem to mind the proximity.  
Great. The last thing Dean needed was for Sammy to have feelings for the asshole who broke the door again.

Sam finally saw Dean and Cas's intertwined hands at this point, and the smile on his face was almost blinding. Dean hoped, futilely, that Sam wasn't going to say something, but Sam did anyway: "So, the date went well?"

"More than well. Did you spend the night studying, like a good little law student?"

"Actually," Gabriel interjected, "I took him out for dessert."

Castiel's eyebrows shot up.

Dean turned to Sam. "Is that a euphemism for kinky sex involving food?"

"No, actually," Sam said, emphasising the second word. "There's a diner on 48th that serves the best brownies I've ever had."

"Was there pie?" Dean looked sideways at Gabriel. Sam seemed a little disappointed, despite awesome brownies. Dean paused at that thought, pieces falling into place.

Sam had wanted it to be kinky sex.

And Gabriel, whose every second sentence was an innuendo, took him out for dessert instead.

Okay, maybe he wasn't so bad. But what was up with that? Gabriel should have been jumping at the chance to get into Sam's pants. Not that Dean was complaining. I mean, he broke the fucking door.

"We should get coffee, after work," Dean said.

"Yes, I think that's a good idea," Cas agreed. "I'm sure Jo would love to meet Sam."

"Sounds good to me," Gabriel said, peeling himself off of Sam. "See you later, Samsquatch, cousin, Deano."  
He headed toward the stage. Dean gave Sam the 'We will talk about this later, mark my words' look, to which Sam responded with bitchface number 45, 'oh fuck you, jerk.'

Sam headed toward the crew rooms, and Dean walked Cas to the stage. He didn't let go of Cas's hand until they were in the wings, where he pulled Cas close. "This okay?" he asked.

"Of course," Cas replied. He leaned up and kissed Dean gently.

As they parted, a very British stage whisper was audible: "Pay up, Pamela. I told you so."

"Asshole," came the reply, and then silence followed the barely-heard ruffling of bills. Dean was confused as to what was more surprising; that Crowley was actually in favor of their relationship, or that he had started a pool at work on it.

"We work with middle-schoolers, apparently," Cas said, sighing. Then he smiled. "See you later."

"See ya," Dean replied, smiling back, and then made himself scarce.

* * *

Dean, Castiel, Sam, and Gabriel all walked into the Starbucks near Cas's apartment together, chatting avidly. Cas in particular was enjoying the company of his cousin and Sam, and though he didn't know exactly what was going on between them, he was happy that Gabriel was becoming involved with Sam. Not only was he Dean's brother, he was extremely level-headed, very bright, and no-nonsense, which made him a perfect foil to Gabriel's carefree, nonsensical attitude. From what Dean had told him, Sam didn't take shit from anyone, and Castiel surmised that this was one of the reasons why Gabriel was drawn to him so much.

"Hey, boys!" Jo called cheerily from behind the counter, where she was serving a customer. "I'll be with you in a second." Dean smiled at her. He rather liked Jo. She was a great friend to Cas, and what more could he ask than that?

"So wait, who's this again?" Sam asked.

"That's Jo, Cas's best friend," Gabe told him. "She's fucking awesome." It was a crude way of putting it, but from Dean's short experience meeting Jo, he knew it was true. Of course, Cas didn't argue either, knowing that Gabriel's statement was one hundred percent fact.

"Yeah, she's been there with me through a lot, so I pay her back by buying coffee from here every day," Cas told him, smirking. "She's really great. Amazing memory, too, I'm pretty sure she remembers the usuals of all her regulars."

Dean put his arm around Cas's shoulder, pulling him in closer and placing a kiss to the top of his head. Castiel reached up his hand to meet Dean's and leaned back into him peacefully. "Aww, puke," Gabriel said jokingly, absolutely ruining the moment. Cas sighed exasperatedly, refusing to move from his boyfriend's contact to spite his obnoxious cousin.

"Shut up, Gabe," Sam ordered, smacking him on the shoulder. "They're adorable. You wish you had what they do, so suck it." The matter-of-fact way Sam put it made the three other men burst out into laughter. "What?" he asked.

"I'm sure he'd be more than willing to suck it, Sammy," Dean replied, still laughing. Gabriel merely wiggled his eyebrows suggestively in response. Before the innuendos could continue to fly, Jo waved them over.

"Cas and Dean, I'll make what you usually have," she said, placing the order into the computer at the cash register. "Hey, Gabe, long time no see. Mocha frappuccino, right?" Gabriel nodded eagerly, obviously impressed with her phenomenal memory. "And who's this?" she asked, referring to Sam.

"Oh, Jo, that's my brother Sam," Dean told her, his hand still clasped in Cas's. When Jo looked up and over to them, her eyes immediately flashed down to their conjoined hands in a fraction of a second.

"Wait. Wait wait wait wait wait," she said. "Hold up. What did I miss?"

Cas grinned shyly. "Our date last night… went really,  _really_  well. Dean and I are together now."

Jo paused, and everybody but Cas looked confused as to why she had stopped dead in her tracks. "Excuse me," she told them, and moved into the back room. Everyone looked at Cas, perplexed, and Cas simply smiled. He burst out laughing when he heard Jo screaming ecstatically from the other room, and the others seemed to get the message. When Jo returned, she wore a wide smile. "Okay, I just had to get that out of my system. That's amazing, Cas!" She reached over the counter and pulled him into a hug before a thought struck her mind. "Wait… exactly how  _well_  did that date go last night?" Cas immediately flushed a furious scarlet, and Dean cleared his throat and glanced awkwardly in a different direction. Noticing something on the edge of Cas's v-neck, she instantly reached over the counter and pulled the collar of the shirt aside, seeing the mark that Dean left on Cas's collarbone the night before. Her jaw dropped and her eyes bugged out, and Sam and Gabriel were in stitches by the counter at her reaction as she just stood there with that same facial expression, not moving, while Dean and Cas both blushed. "BULLSHIT!" Jo exclaimed, incredulous. "Holy fucking… Jesus, Cas. That was fast. Not that I'm blaming you. I mean, look at him."

At that, Cas couldn't resist letting the embarrassment go and joining Sam and Gabriel in a fit of laughter. "Yeah, well… What can I say?"

Dean coughed awkwardly. Castiel felt sorry that Jo put them both on the spot like that, and put it in his mind to apologize to Dean later, before Dean surprised everyone by coming off as completely nonchalant despite his obvious embarrassment. "Well, Jo, look at  _him_. I couldn't exactly resist."

Jo threw her head back and laughed hysterically. "Just wait until I tell Adam about this later. He's going to die. ANYWAY, now that that's over with, I forgot the reason you were here in the first place. What can I get for you, Sam?"

"I'll just have a vanilla bean frap. No caffeine for me today," Sam told her, wiping tears off the corner of his eyes as he tried to fix himself from where he had doubled over in mirth. Jo nodded, inputting his order into the computer, before Dean offered his credit card.

"Nope, I got this one, Dean-o," Gabriel protested, pulling out his own card and handing it to Jo to swipe. Dean raised his eyebrow at the professional looking black credit card before Sam's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

"Jesus, Gabriel, you have an American Express Centurion card?" he asked, and Gabe nodded, with an expression on his face that expressed his incredulity that Sam thought it was a big deal.

"Yeah, so what?"

Castiel sighed. He didn't really want to get into the details of how his family actually had money. Sam was insatiable when it came to information like this, as he was learning, so he couldn't exactly stop the kid from asking questions. When Jo handed the card back to Gabriel, she smiled at them, waving them off to a table as she started to make their drinks, and the four headed to sit at a nearby table up against a window.

" _So_ , that's like the exclusive, invitation only, premium of premium credit cards… it's made out of anodized titanium." Sam seemed a bit eager, and Dean shook his head as his brother continued. "It's the most expensive card to own and maintain but it comes with great benefits and priveleges. How the hell did you get one?"

Gabriel looked at Castiel intuitively. He knew that his cousin was modest, and didn't use the family money. He had immense respect for Cas for that reason, among others. He didn't want to start spilling their family information in front of Cas's new boyfriend and his brother, even if impressing said brother might have helped him along in the relationship department.

"It's okay, Gabe," Cas told his cousin, turning to Sam (Dean was sitting next to him) before starting to explain. "See, my dad's side of the family comes from a long line of entrepreneurs with ties in the stock market, so they have a lot of money. Gabriel had a huge trust fund, and since his parents had that card first, they got him invited once he came of age."

Dean seemed a bit perplexed as he rubbed his thumb over the back of Cas's hand lazily. "Wait, so why don't you have one? Or a trust fund?"

Cas scooted a little bit closer to his boyfriend. "I do have a trust fund, but it's staying the way it is. I never wanted it and I don't plan on using it. Sure, I could get a huge apartment or a black titanium credit card, but I don't see the good in that. My dad always told me I was stupid for trying to make it in this industry because it's really competitive, and that I should just use the family's money the way it was meant to be used, and make more money. I'm proving to him day after day that I can make a living doing what I love to do and not what the family wants me to do. I pay for all of my expenses with money that I earned, and really, what more can I ask for than that? I'll probably keep the trust fund just in case I ever have kids in the future, which I don't even know about at this point."

Sam looked thoughtful, and rather appreciative. Gabriel knew the drill, but hearing it out loud once again just solidified his respect for his cousin. Dean simply turned to Castiel and took his face in his hands, pressing his lips to the other man's gently before pulling away and looking him straight in the eyes. "You're an amazing person, you know that, Cas? Don't ever let anybody to tell you otherwise." Gabriel saw Sam's eyes shine in a way that he had never seen before. The guy was obviously thrilled that his brother was happy, and, well, the sight of the two of them together was definitely touching.

At that moment, Jo approached with their coffee cups in a holder in her hand. "Woops, am I interrupting a moment?" she teased.

"Yes," all four men responded simultaneously and without looking at her.

"Oh, come on, I'm just doing my job!" Jo protested half-heartedly, placing the cardboard holder full of four cups on the table. "Trust me, I'm just as happy for them as you are. Relax. Anyway, enjoy! Cas, I'll text you later." Cas looked up at her and smiled, nodding as he removed his cup from the holder.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as they made small talk, and before they knew it, their coffee had long since been finished as the twilight sky turned orange, and Castiel felt Dean's restlessness beside him, and the two said their goodbyes to Sam, Gabriel, and Jo, who had joined them halfway through one of their discussions, before leaving the coffee shop for the night. There was a silent agreement that they would go to Cas's apartment, seeing as it was closer, and when they arrived, they removed their coats and placed them on the armchair that was close to the front entrance.

"I thought that we would never leave," Dean stated impatiently, before capturing his boyfriend's lips in a kiss. "Now, what do you say we recreate last night in a different bed?" he whispered huskily, gently nipping down on Castiel's earlobe when he said so.

Cas's knees nearly buckled out from under him. "To be honest, I was confused as to why you didn't immediately carry me to my bedroom the second we got here," he confessed mischievously, and then he burst out into blissful laughter when Dean did exactly that.


	7. Take Me There

**Chapter Seven: Take Me There**

The morning was peaceful. Sunlight streamed in through Cas's window, illuminating the room with glowing, natural light. It was a beautiful day for December, and though the air was cold, the sun was bright and the sky clear, and that was enough for Cas. Dean had woken up before him and somehow extricated himself from Cas's intertwining position from the night before to take a shower, and Cas could hear the water running in the bathroom.

Castiel sat on the edge of his bed, holding a delicate gold rope chain necklace in his hands, looking at it intently. He studied the intricate workings of the golden metal threads interlacing with one another over and over again, twisting and combining together to form one single unit. He ran his fingers over the smooth, turning edges, the words from the moment he received it echoing in his brain. ' _It's like us… Alone we're weak, delicate golden threads, but together we're this chain. Strong and unbreakable.'_

Shaking his head bitterly, he slammed the chain back into the box it was kept in, throwing it into his bottom drawer with a rough snap of his wrist before kicking the drawer closed. He rubbed his face with his hands, a single tear escaping from behind his eyes, which he angrily rubbed into his cheek. He could never let those words get to him, ever again. Lies were lies, no matter how much you had wanted them to be true. As he heard the water turn off from Dean's shower, he used the edge of his sheet to dry his face, glancing in a bedside mirror to make sure he didn't look as though he'd been upset.

"…Cas?" Dean called softly as he exited the bathroom. "I heard a thump, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I was just closing my drawer," Cas replied honestly, but his voice betrayed him, cracking on the last syllable and causing him to clear his throat and look away as his face grew hot. When Dean detected the voice crack and saw Cas turn away, he immediately crossed the bedroom to his side, a worried look on his face.

"Cas, what's wrong?" Dean asked, and Cas looked back at him, trying to mask his feelings, but the second he opened his mouth to say 'I'm fine,' a strangled sob came out instead and furious tears spilled themselves from his eyes. "Jesus, Cas, are you okay?" Dean instantly gathered the smaller man in his arms and pulled him in close to his body, wiping away the tears with his gentle hand.

"I…" Cas's voice still failed him, so he finally gave in to the emotions he was feeling, unable to angrily repress them any further now that the comforting, strong arms of his boyfriend were there to soothe him. Dean just held him, rubbing his hand through Cas's dark locks and drying his tears. No words needed to be said; Dean knew that Cas couldn't talk about it and Cas was just glad that Dean was there for him.

When Cas calmed down, Dean placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head, pulling away from him slightly. "Cas, what the hell is going on?"

Castiel just shook his head sadly. "I want to tell you, Dean… I really do. But I just can't. Not right now…" The heartbroken expression on Dean's face nearly made him change his mind.

"You… you don't trust me?" Dean asked, and from the way his voice sounded hoarse, Cas suspected he had hurt his boyfriend, badly, by telling him that he couldn't share what was hurting him.

"Dear God, no, Dean, of course I trust you," Cas told him, and pulled him down to press a chaste, emotion-filled kiss to his lips. "I just… it's something that's stuck with me for a really long time, and… it hurts. Bad. But I can't talk about it yet… it makes it too real. And it hurts ten times worse. The only reason Jo knows is because she was there through it all. I wouldn't even talk about it with her afterwards. Just… give me time, Dean." Cas looked up at him with pleading eyes, and Dean sighed.

"Alright," Dean told him, pulling him close once again. "Take all the time that you need, you know I'll be here for you whenever you're ready."

Cas just leaned in to Dean's muscled chest, thankful that there was someone there. The fact that it was Dean just made it that much better.

* * *

"Come on, Castiel, get your head back to the stage!" Crowley called agitatedly from the audience in the auditorium of the theater. "That is now the  _fourth_  time we have to restart this scene because you keep mixing up your lines. You were off book weeks ago, what's wrong with you?"

Castiel hung his head in frustration. "I'm sorry, Crowley, I don't even know what's up, it's just not coming to me."

"We start tech runs in two weeks, we don't have  _time_  for it to 'not come to you'," Crowley chided, and Cas gritted his teeth. He needed to get this, and get it quick. He'd been running this scene with Anna during rehearsals for the longest time, and he had never messed up this badly. "Do I need to tell that boyfriend of yours to stop distracting you?" Crowley added, and Cas felt anger flare up in him.

"Dammit, Crowley, this has nothing to do with Dean, and you know it. Don't invade my personal life because I'm having a bit of difficulty getting a God damn line right." Cas snapped a little bit more violently than he was intending to, and even Anna next to him recoiled. Immediately trying to fix the situation to make himself not look like an asshole, Cas calmed himself down. "I'm sorry, Crowley, I'm just having a bit of a rough patch lately."

Crowley sighed dejectedly. "Alright, Cas, take a break. We'll be back on in ten, get those lines down."

Castiel grabbed his bag in the wings, fishing his water bottle out of it and drinking deeply. He put his water bottle down, placing his face in his hands, and didn't even hear Anna approaching tentatively.

"Hey, Cas?" she called gently, sitting down next to him. "We can run those lines if you want…" Cas just sighed, reaching down and taking another sip of water. He felt bad for not being able to talk to her, but she wasn't Jo or Gabriel, or even Dean, so he couldn't exactly just open up to her. "Um… alright then…" Anna got up awkwardly, starting to leave the area.

"Wait, Anna …" Cas told her guiltily. "I just… it's not something I can just talk about with you. I'm really sorry."

Anna looked back at him, a small smile pulling at the edges of her mouth. "It's alright, I understand. Just… know that I'm here, okay?" Cas nodded, and, seemingly satisfied, Anna left the stage to take her break.

In only a few short minutes, Castiel heard a body slide into the chair next to him. He looked up, expecting Anna again or maybe Dean, but he wasn't expecting Sam. "Sam? What's up?" he asked, trying his best to put on an enthusiastic front for the normally high-energy guy.

"Oh come on, Cas, don't give me that shit," Sam told him. Cas blinked. He knew Sam was perceptive, but Sam didn't even know Cas that well and he could tell that there was something bothering him. "Anna swung by the crew room asking for Dean, but he's busy whipping the lazy asses into shape with these sets and I was helping Meg with coordination, so I had some time free. What's wrong?"

Cas coughed, awkwardly wondering how he should put this. "Look, Sam, I really appreciate it and everything, but I don't even talk about this kind of stuff with Dean…" He was then witness to a look that was probably one of the infamous 'bitchfaces' that Dean kept going on about. (If Dean was there, he would say it was bitchface number twenty seven, the 'bitch, stop being dumb' face.) "I'm sorry, it's just… it's complicated."

"Isn't it always…?" Sam mused, before turning to Cas with a steely look in his eyes. "Castiel. Look at me. I don't know what it is you're dealing with, or going through, but it's probably not something going on currently because you've been with Dean twenty-four seven and he's ten times happier because of it. All I'm saying is that if you don't even talk about this kind of stuff with Dean… maybe you should." His words struck a chord with Cas; he had been trying to find the words to tell his boyfriend everything, but he couldn't bring himself to. It was beyond frustrating, but the simple way that Sam put it made him rethink things. "Cas, my brother is a lot of things. Some of them are negative, but if there's one thing Dean is, it's trustworthy. You can tell him anything and he won't judge you. Especially you of all people. He…" Sam stopped for a minute, pausing as if deciding whether or not he could continue. "I don't know if you see it. You probably don't see it because of things that have happened to you before, but… Cas, when he looks at you, it's like he's looking at gold. Like you're the most beautiful, valuable thing he's ever laid eyes on. And I don't think I've ever seen him look at anyone like that before. He can take care of you, and help you… all you have to do is let him." Leaving it on that note, Sam got up to leave.

Castiel sat there, Sam's words sinking in. He knew Dean felt strongly for him, but… did he actually feel  _that_ strongly? He wanted to trust Dean. No, he did trust Dean. He trusted Dean with his life. But this?

Shaking it out, Cas got up as the ten minute break approached its close. He grabbed his script, flipping to the bookmarked page for the scene they were working on, and ran through his lines once more in his head, steeling himself in determination to get it right and get Crowley off his back. He threw everything else out of his mind, putting all of his energy into focusing on the words on that page, and when the time came to go back out there and rehearse it, he was smiling. Because no matter what had happened, nothing was going to stop him from performing. Performing was his only escape.

* * *

That afternoon, Castiel had done exactly what Sam suggested and approached Dean about everything, though he did mention that he wouldn't be able to talk about everything right off the bat. Some things were just too painful to bring to the surface right away.

"Look," Dean said, sliding an arm around Cas's shoulder, moving carefully - Cas could spook like a horse, and that was the last thing Dean wanted. "We've both got shit we've got to sort through. I don't mean to push, but, maybe we should talk - just what we're comfortable with. Our home towns, families, whatever."

Cas nodded and kissed him softly, just for a moment. "I would like to know what circumstances made you who you are."

Dean smiled a little. "It's not… not the happiest story, I guess, but I can't regret any of it. It got me here, after all, and got Sammy to NYU, right?"

Cas pressed closer. "Tell me," he says, not quite a command, but not hesitant at all. "I'll tell you mine."

"Okay, I guess I'll start," Dean said, taking a deep breath. He was mostly over all of this - he was just Dean, and that story was part of what made him who he was. And he was a lot of things - Sam's big brother, his father's son, the little boy his mother said had angels watching over him - and it was thanks to his circumstances.

"Mom died when I was four. It was a nursery fire - Sammy'd just turned six months old." He pauses, watching something clench in Cas's eyes. "Dad wasn't the same after that. If he wasn't working, he was drinking. Bobby Singer used to help, when we were little, until his wife died and he moved to South Dakota - he had to get out, and I was fourteen. I could take care of Sam pretty well by then. Dad tried, he really did, but Mom was his everything. Sometimes, I think he saw too much of her in us, and he just couldn't deal with that."

Cas pulled him closer, if it were possible, laying his head on Dean's shoulder. "I'm sure she was a lovely woman."

"Yeah, she was. She... she used to tell me I had angels watching over me." Dean remembered Mom, remembered how she used to bake the best pies he'd ever tasted, and how she cut the crusts off of grilled cheese, and how she didn't talk about why Dean didn't have a grandma or a grandpa on her side of the family.

Losing her had been hard, and he hadn't understood why she had to leave them, but he remembered what Dad had said that night, pulling Sam out of nursery and passing him off to Dean: _Take care of Sam._

"Dad died of liver failure when I was nineteen. I worked to get Sammy into a good school, and then I went out for engineering. That's how I discovered crew work, and, well, now I'm here, sitting on my boyfriend's couch, telling him about my life story." He laughed a little. "Not all bad, huh?"

Dean didn't bring up the big thing on his mind, because that wound was far too fresh and too deep to go into. He figured it was a little like whatever Cas didn't want to talk about, so he left it alone.

Cas sat up a little straighter. "I suppose so." He took a deep breath that mirrored the one Dean had taken before, and started.

"My parents were rich," he said flatly. "And they had certain expectations that came with that. Dean wondered what exactly that meant, and Cas continued. "I didn't want to go into the family business anymore than Gabriel ever did, but I tried anyway, all through my teenage years. I went to the functions and Dad's cushy corner office and everything else, and I just couldn't stomach it." Cas shrugged. "It wasn't worth it. Mom and Dad didn't exactly approve when I said I was going to school for theatre, but they couldn't stop me, especially when I refused to use the family money."

Dean nodded. He could understand that. He pressed a gentle kiss to Cas's shoulder.

Cas smiled and continued. "Gabriel had dropped off the map completely a few years before. I was upset with him for a long time over that, because he'd been the only one I could talk to about my dreams. I found him in New York a year or two ago - he'd changed his name; that's why his last name is different, even though we're cousins on my father's side. He told me once that it was a joke: 'Gabriel of the Cross.'"

"Like the archangel," Dean murmured.

"Yeah. We were all named after biblical figures. I was an only child, but Gabriel has three siblings - Hester, Inias, and Rachel. We used to joke about it as kids, before everyone went their separate ways."

Cas sounded wistful, like he missed the days when it was easier. Dean got that, too - sometimes, he still dreamt about his mother making sandwiches, her belly huge with Sam.

"So, Castiel. I don't remember any Castiel from Sunday school." He smiled, trying to convey it was mostly a joke, but he  _was_  curious. He knew there was a Hester or an Esther in the Bible, and a Rachel, but he didn't remember an Inias or a Castiel.

Cas smiled. "The Angel of Thursday. Not many people have heard of him. But it's better than Inias - the only real record there is of  _his_  namesake is that when the Catholic Church stopped recognizing several angels, including Inias, the angel made people fart in the middle of Mass. Loudly."

The mischief in Cas's voice made Dean laugh. "I'm sure Gabriel never let him live that one down."

"Oh no, he never did." Cas's smile was almost wicked, but Dean loved it.

That, of course, didn't stop him from kissing it right off his face, a deep, short kiss that rode the edge of need before he pulled back, his hands on either side of Cas's face.

"See? That wasn't too bad," he murmured. "And when we're ready, we can share more."

Cas swallowed and nodded. "Yeah." His voice was rough with want, and Dean couldn't help leaning in again, twisting so he could straddle Cas on the couch. This kiss tipped over into desire and want, and Dean was better at this kind of thing than he was at talking by a whole hell of a lot. Dean didn't sink down to grind their hips together, but he knew he wouldn't be able to keep like that for a long time, not with the way that Cas's tongue slid against his, and how his hands were splayed on Dean's back, bunching his shirt.

Dean pressed his mouth to Cas's more fiercely, tangling his hands in Cas's hair. He bit at Cas's lips, and Cas whined under him.

This was good, more than good, it was goddamn wonderful, and Dean could only hope that it would stay like this for as long as it possibly could. Dean hadn't been this content with his lot in life in a long time - maybe ever.

And it was all thanks to Cas. Funny that he was named after an angel.

Maybe Mom had been right.


	8. Fix You

**Chapter Eight: Fix You**

"Alright, that's a wrap for today. Good job, everyone," Crowley called from the audience. They had been running the group numbers for the entire day, and the whole cast and company was exhausted. Anna had been looking at Castiel with a strange expression on her face throughout the entire rehearsal, and it didn't go unnoticed by Cas.

"Castiel, you okay?" Anna asked him as people began to clear off the stage.

Castiel sighed. She couldn't just leave well enough alone. He liked her very much as a friend but she was taking it a bit too far in trying to find out what was bothering him. "Yeah, I just feel like I ran a marathon, did a thousand squat thrusts, and got hit by a truck, but other than that, peachy." It was a bit more biting than he had intended it to be, but instead of feeling guilty he just cleared his throat and looked away.

"Alright, what the  _hell_  is going on?" Anna demanded. "Besides the fact that you kept fucking up your lines the other day, you've been completely off your game. Your normally amazing dancing is weak, you're barely even singing your part in the group numbers, and when it comes to scene work, your character development has all but disappeared. You're lucky Crowley hasn't been paying closer attention, because if he was, he wouldn't have liked what he saw."

Castiel felt bitter anger flare up in him from an unknown source. "Look, Anna, I don't care whether or not you think I'm off my game or not, I have things that I'm working on dealing with, which, once again, are none of your God damn business."

Anna gritted her teeth. She looked around to make sure most of the cast had left before continuing in a lower voice. "Castiel. We are  _professionals_. When we're on this stage we make damn well sure that nothing we're 'working on dealing with' affects our abilities. You're better than this! Get it out of your head while you're here!"

"You couldn't even  _guess_  what I'm dealing with in the first place, so who the hell are you to judge?" Cas was indignant. "I'll be fine, Anna. You know that I will be. Until I am, please do me a favor and  _fuck off_." As he turned to leave, he heard words he wasn't expecting to hear come from Anna's mouth.

"You're a fucking disappointment, Cas," Anna told him bitterly. Cas stopped in his tracks, his blood running cold in his veins.

"What… what did you say?" he asked quietly, turning back around.

Anna scoffed. "Get yourself together. This is our work. It's more important than whatever the hell you're making everyone pity you over. Right now, you're a detriment to this cast and this production. You're a disappointment."

That word, that one word, made Castiel's heart beat faster as he felt icy heat spread through his body. He hadn't heard that word in such a long time, why the hell was Anna using that word? He felt a stabbing pain in his heart, and gasped out in pain, collapsing to his knees and screwing his eyes shut, not able to see the immediate look of regret and alarm that flashed over Anna's face.

"Castiel? Jesus, are you alright?" Anna called out to him in alarm, crouching down next to him. She grabbed his wrist, trying to get his attention, but Castiel was barely aware of what was going on. All that he felt was the grip on his arm. He cried out, yanking his arm out of her grasp, and shoved her away from him, tears starting to fall from his eyes as he grabbed his head in his hands and attempted to control the sobs that were now coming from him.

He barely registered the sound of footsteps running across the stage as someone else approached Cas and the helpless Anna. "Holy shit, what the hell is going on?" Meg demanded, having seen the commotion from the wings. She immediately bent down to Cas, holding his head in her hands. "Castiel, can you hear me?" Cas couldn't even respond, tears flooding from his eyes as he feebly tried to pull himself away from Meg, his hands covering his face as he curled up on the stage. Meg turned to Anna in a cold, quiet fury. "I don't care what the  _fuck_  you did, but you had better go to the crew room right the hell now and get Dean Winchester before I kick your fucking teeth in."

Anna was gone in a flash, and no sooner than Meg had pulled Castiel back into an upright position, Dean sprinted onto the stage, taking in the sight immediately, and his eyes widened in panic. "Cas?" Dean called softly, dashing to the fallen form of his broken down boyfriend, pulling him into his arms. Cas could do nothing but sob into his chest, clutching his shirt in a vicegrip for comfort. "Holy shit, Cas…" Dean looked around, glad that nobody else had seen but Anna and Meg, before gathering Castiel up and picking him up bridal style, holding him close and walking off the stage. "I'm taking him home, he'll be okay," he called back to Meg, who nodded. Anna simply looked at Dean and the upset Castiel and dashed away, speechless and guilty.

Dean just shushed Castiel softly as he carried him out of the theater, ignoring the looks of people he got on the street as he walked the few blocks back to Cas's apartment, fishing Cas's key out of his pocket to open the door and place him gently down on the sofa. The separation from Dean for the slightest second sent Castiel into a panic, and he grabbed for him as Dean sat himself down on the couch next to him, pulling him close and rocking him back and forth. "Shh, Cas, it's okay, I'm here…" he whispered softly, holding his head to his chest and wrapping his other arm around his waist and pulling him close. Cas had calmed down somewhat on the way back from the theater, and now, silent tears streamed from his eyes, some rolling down his exposed cheek while the others dried themselves on Dean's shirt. After a few minutes of sitting there, Dean's comforting, strong arms around him, Cas stopped crying, sniffling and breathing deeply to try to calm himself down now that he was well aware of his surroundings again.

"I- I'm sorry," Cas moaned softly, pressing his face into Dean's chest, embarrassed. Dean just pulled him in tighter.

"Look at me," Dean commanded, and Cas looked up, tear-streaked blue eyes gazing into Dean's hard-set, firm greens. "You have absolutely  _nothing_  to be sorry for. Do you hear me? Nothing."

"But I… I made a scene at rehearsal and you had to carry me home and…" Dean cut off his words with a well-timed, gentle kiss on the lips. Cas sucked in a breath, before pulling his face away and leaning once again into Dean's chest. "I guess I owe you an explanation, don't I…" It wasn't even a question, but the melancholy tone of Cas's voice made Dean rethink whether or not it was best at this point.

"Cas… Are you sure that'll be good for you right now? I mean, this has obviously been wearing down on you… You don't need to tell me anything until you're absolutely ready." Dean made sure his voice was as soft and reassuring as possible, and he could see and feel Cas relax against him.

"No… I need to get this off my chest," Cas said. "I told you that I don't talk to anyone about it. Not even Jo, who was there. It's well overdue." He paused, hesitating, as if trying to find a way to start.

Dean hoped and prayed that this would help him feel better. Because seeing Castiel like that, broken and falling apart, it wrenched Dean's heart like he had never felt before. He wanted nothing more than to just take everything and fix it. He wanted to fix the broken parts of Cas, make him all better, and make him happy, fix everything that had ever gone wrong with that beautiful man and make sure nothing ever hurt him ever again.

"It was getting close to the end of college for me," Cas began, sitting up and scooting closer to Dean so that they were both sitting more upright. "I met him at school when I was a junior, he was a senior and he helped me come out of my shell a lot… Up until that point I only had a select few close friends, and I was fine that way, but in a way I always wanted to be more outgoing, and Balthazar saw that."

"Balthazar?" Dean asked. "That's his name?"

"Yeah," Cas answered. "It's… it's still hard for me to say it after everything that's happened…" He turned a bit, leaning back against Dean's chest, and Dean wrapped his arms protectively around Castiel's upper torso. "He brought me out of my introverted state of mind, brought me to parties, introduced me to people, and, well, I really liked the attention. After one rather crazy party, we were both really drunk, and we sort of… fell into bed together. Looking back, I guess that's how he'd been planning to start it all along."

Dean had winced at the thought of Castiel sleeping with another man, but the fact that it was in the past made him shake it off as nothing. "How he'd been planning to start what?"

"Our relationship," Cas answered. "We started dating and he was great. He was always… he was always great. We moved in together and were together throughout my senior year in college. Things were going great and I didn't see any reason why I wouldn't stay, and then…" He broke off, swallowing, a fresh tear falling from his eye. "We fought occasionally, just like any normal couple, but one night it was really bad… he wanted to move out of the city after I graduated, and I told him that I wanted to stay for my career, and he just couldn't see past the fact that I didn't want to go with him. He turned it around on me and said that I was a bad boyfriend, and… and a disappointment." He choked out the last word, barely able to get it out. "And then… that was the first time he hit me."

Dean's grip around his boyfriend tightened as he felt an intense, white hot, stabbing fury seethe through his body. "He  _what_?"

Castiel continued, unable to say it again. "I tried to fight back, but he was too strong for me. After awhile I managed to get out, and I called Jo. She came to get me and… I had to beg her not to take me to the hospital. My nose was broken and I had nearly bit through my lip, and my ribs were severely bruised." Cas's description of his injuries made Dean see red. So help him, if he ever met Balthazar, he was going to kill him. "Jo took me to her mom's place, and Ellen took care of me. Jo too, even though she had class. I was out of school for a week and Jo had to lie and tell them that I had a death in the family. She made me promise, over and over, that I wasn't going to go back to him… but I did."

Dean just nodded understandingly. He'd heard that many abuse victims will return to their abuser at least once, out of love, or a desire to make things right and hoping they'll change. He pressed his face into Cas's neck in front of him, breathing him in deeply and holding him in the best way possible to make him feel safe.

"He begged me to take him back, swore that he'd never do it again, and told me he loved me. I thought I loved him back so I gave him another chance. After a few weeks, it happened again, though it wasn't as bad as the first time. He backhanded me across the face, and immediately dropped to his knees and started crying. He told me he knew he had a problem with his anger and he was so, so sorry for ever taking it out on me that way. I swore to him that if it ever happened again, I would leave him."

Dean closed his eyes. He couldn't bear listening to this story of how Castiel was broken, but he knew he needed to hear it. He needed to hear it if he wanted to heal him. That was all he wanted. To hold him, heal him, and make him remember what it feels like to be happy.

"A week later, he brought up the same argument that got us into that big fight the first time. Even though I told him I didn't want to go, after everything happened and I came back he had been looking for places for us to live in Pennsylvania behind my back. He found one he liked and had gone to see it without me, and then he told me he was going to get it for us and that we were going to move out as soon as I graduated. I was furious, understandably, and I told him he should stop trying to pioneer my life and if he actually loved me, he would want me to do what I love to do, and that career required me to stay here in order to be successful. All of that was just trying to get him to see reason, but all it did was get him mad. He… he beat me so badly, I was in a coma for two days."

Dean froze. His jaw dropped in shock, and in that instant he wanted nothing more than to find that rat bastard and torture him until he begged to be put out of his misery. "Cas… I swear to you that I will never lay a hand on you like that. Not once, ever. I'm better than that fucking bastard who did that to you. I mean, a coma? Please tell me he got thrown in prison."

"Jo called the cops on him when she found out I was in the hospital," Castiel told him. "He maneuvered his way out of it by inflicting bruises on himself to make it look like the abuse was mutual. His brother Raphael was a hotshot lawyer, so he got away scot-free."

If Castiel could have seen the set of Dean's jaw, what he saw would have scared him. A look of cold determination came across Dean's face to make this grimy Balthazar suffer. But as Cas sniffled, trying to hold back tears, Dean remembered what was more important, and that was taking the pieces of this broken man and fitting them back together. "I wish he had gone in for life," Dean whispered vehemently, placing a gentle kiss on the back of Cas's head.

"I would like nothing more," Cas told him honestly. "He vanished after that, but his memory is all around me. When Anna called me a disappointment to the cast for the way I've been performing lately… it all came back to me. And then when she grabbed my wrist, it was exactly like the way Balthazar grabbed my wrist when he was yanking me into the other room when he was angry. I still feel the bruises sometimes, even though they aren't there. It was a long recovery."

"I can imagine," Dean said.

"And there's more to it than just that," Cas told him. "I thought I loved him back at the time, but looking back, it was never love. It was just need. I needed someone in my life to play that role and take me out of my shell, and be there for me, and love me, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing that, so that's why I went back to him. It was only when I realized that my life was in danger that I was able to break free. And all of that… I haven't even had a relationship since then. He made me feel like I wasn't worth it, like I don't deserve to be loved because I really am a disappointment…"

The present tense of those emotions stemming from Balthazar's abuse scared Dean. Seeing it still affect him to that day was simply scary. "You are  _not_  a disappointment, Castiel," he said fiercely.

He pulled up, releasing Cas as he moved back a bit on the couch so that Castiel would turn to face him. "Look straight into my eyes, Cas."

Cas obeyed, and was nearly overpowered by the emotion he saw in them.

"I will never,  _ever_  hurt you like that. I swear on my mother's grave that I will never lay a hand on you in anger. You are not a disappointment. You shine brighter than any star I've ever laid my eyes on. You're… you're beautiful. When I laid eyes on you for the first time back at that theater, I thought to myself, 'Damn, Dean, you're screwed,' because ever since that day I can't get you out of my head. I care about you so much, Cas, and you have to know that I will always be here to protect you. And help you get over everything you've been through. All I want to do is fix you, baby." And with that, he brought his boyfriend's face closer to his own, gently, slowly, kissing him deeply and passionately. Cas responded with a throaty groan,and if Dean's eyes were open, he would have seen the lone tear slip from Cas's eye.

Dean moved slowly, kissing his way down Cas's neck. Gentle movements slid his hands under Cas's t-shirt, and he petted at his boyfriend's sides to try and calm him. "Beautiful," he murmured, coming up for air. "God, Cas, you're incredible."

Cas was quiet, but that was all right. Dean kissed his lips, soft but unhesitant. He wanted to make sure Cas knew just how wonderful he was, and how lucky Dean felt to have him.

They'd had sex a couple of times, yeah, but this was different. This was all about giving Cas what he needed, to make him feel like the center of Dean's whole world.

This? This was making love.

Dean led Cas to the bedroom, stopping every few feet to pull him into a kiss, the slide of tongue and teeth making him lose himself a little. When they got there, he moved to press Cas against the wall, his hands cupping the back of his head. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"Anything," Cas replied, slipping his arms around Dean's neck. "Everything."

Dean laughed softly. "I think I can manage that."

He hiked up Cas's shirt to under his arms, running his hands over Cas's chest. The slim lines of muscle jumped under his touch and slithered along each breath Cas took. Dean loved how responsive Cas was - not just to biting, though that was a huge kink, it seemed like - and he gave as much as he could. He added his mouth to the mix, licking down the centerline of Cas's chest and back up again before moving across to Cas's nipples. He laved at them gently, biting at the skin underneath, and Cas keened, arching into his mouth.

Dean pulled away and straightened up to whisper into Cas's ear, "How do you wanna come, babe? Want me to suck you off, or do you wanna come with me in you?"

Cas groaned. "Y-your mouth."

"Perfect," Dean whispered. He was kind of a god at giving head - he could make this incredible, which was the point. "Want me to prep you while I do?"

Cas nodded, shaking. His knees were weak, and Dean took that as a victory. He pulled Cas close, hitching one of Cas's legs around his hip. They ground into each other a little, and Dean realised that Cas was already rock-hard, even though Dean hadn't even come close to touching him down there.

Good information for later, he decided, and hitched Cas's other leg up, so Cas was pinned between Dean and the wall, legs wrapped around Dean in a vicegrip.

Dean slid his hands back to pull Cas closer, and stepped toward the bed, shifting all of Cas's weight to himself. It was relatively easy to keep Cas up like this, and Dean turned and pressed him down on the sheets, and began.

Tonight, he was going to make Cas forget Balthazar had ever existed.

* * *

A blond man got off the train at Grand Central Station at eleven-thirty. His dark blue eyes flashed in the sunlight, and there was a sense about him that kept passerby from looking at him for too long.

He walked up 42nd Street a couple of blocks, then hailed a cab. He handed the cabbie his credit card as he climbed inside, softly saying in clipped British tones - tight with anger - an address. The cabbie glanced back at him.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Vaughan. Hope you enjoy your time here."

If all went as planned, he would.


	9. Raise Your Glass

**Chapter Nine: Raise Your Glass**

Michael Hendricks was pretty prone to dropping in on rehearsals of plays he'd funded, and Crowley was pretty prone to bringing his dog Cerberus to rehearsals of plays he directed.

This was the first time both had happened at once. Crowley and Cerberus had shown up first, of course, and then the cast, crew, and pit, and then Michael arrived, dressed in a suit that probably cost at least a thousand dollars. He took one look at the dog and kept his distance, and Dean sat in the wings and laughed, Cas's arms looped casually around his waist.

Cerberus was big - part Doberman, part Shepherd, part Saint Bernard - and, objectively, a pretty fucking ugly mutt. But Crowley lavished attention on him, and he never got into trouble, so everybody'd gotten used to having the dog in the audience. And Cerberus, like the fiend of Hades he was named after, growled low at Michael, as if something about the man that stood before him offended him deeply.

Meg sashayed - there was no other way to describe the movement - up to Crowley and Cerberus to talk to him. Cerberus' attention immediately went to her, and he stopped growling. Instead, he wagged his tail and butted at her legs affectionately as she threw a wicked smile Crowley's way.

Only two people in the show could reduce that dog to a giant puppy, aside from Crowley himself: Meg and Gabriel.

And neither of them ever let Crowley forget it.

Speaking of Gabriel, he was in the opposite wing, talking to Sam about something. Well, they were arguing, but it wasn't a loud, explosive fight - Sam was wearing bitchface number 21, "You are an incredibly frustrating idiot" and from the looks of it, was probably on his way to number 45a, "You are so fucking frustrating, I'm out of here."

Probably just show business.

Dean twisted around and kissed his boyfriend on the mouth. "We really are surrounded by grade-schoolers, aren't we?"

"Indeed."

"All right, here we go, gather up, it's hell week," Crowley called to the cast, pit, and crew, and they gathered in front of him accordingly. "Cast, there should be absolutely no screwups during the run-throughs, but you've been perfect so far so let's keep it that way. Pit, we're going to be working in music cues and underscoring for the next two days until everything is down so that we can do repeated run-throughs the rest of the week. As for crew, Dean, I'm sure you have everything handled." From Cas's peripheral vision, he could see Dean look up at Crowley after his comment and give him one of his most dazzling smiles. Apparently those worked on everyone, because Crowley simply blinked after a moment, losing his train of thought. "Right… well… I'll start organizing a few things with pit, the rest of you go warm up or something. And if you fuck up, Cerberus will have you for lunch." At the mention of his name, Cerberus perked up, looking around at the assembled group of people before growling softly and putting his head back down on his paws.

"That's if there's anything left of you after Meg's finished," Gabriel called out cheekily, earning him a glare from said stage manager.

"Keep that shit up and you'll be the first one dead," Meg replied, stone-cold and deadpan, bringing out chuckles from those company members who weren't absolutely terrified of her.

Cas sighed to himself. He leaned over into Dean as a few of the cast members went onstage to stretch, and Dean put his arm around him as they sat there lazily enjoying each other's company. Seeing Meg go about her business getting things organized with lighting and sound and hearing her demanding tone echo throughout the room made Cas think about her. Meg was definitely a character, but he had decided he more than liked her after what she had done the previous week.

* * *

Rehearsal had been pretty much finished when Cas had his panic attack, so Anna managed to leave before Meg could deal with her. The stage manager approached Dean as rehearsal started the next day to find out exactly what happened, and Dean gave her a short summary of the cause of Cas's panic attack in the first place, and Cas saw her turn towards Anna with a look in her eye that he would pay a large sum of money never to have directed at him.

"ANNA." Meg's loud voice projected over the voices of the cast members who had gathered and were chatting, and most of them immediately froze at Meg's tone. Anna looked up and blanched, before Meg simply uttered, " _Outside_."

Anna reluctantly got up and followed Meg out to the hallway, and from their position, Dean and Cas could hear every word that was exchanged.

"Were you out of your  _fucking_  mind?" Meg yelled. "Screwing with the head of our lead who, I might add, plays a much more important character than you, has been here since day one working his ass off ten times harder than you, just because he's been a little off his game due to bad memories that  _you_ helped stir up?"

"I… I didn't know…" came Anna's feeble argument.

"Don't give me that bullshit. Whether or not you knew, it was not your place in the first place. You are a god damn  _cast_  member. You don't have  _any_  authority in this building and in this production, whether you'd like to think so or not. So if you keep this kind of shit up, I'll show you who the real  _disappointment_  is when you're brought out of here in a fucking wheelchair, so help me God. Now get the hell back on stage and don't say another word while I'm within earshot, got it?"

Castiel winced while Dean tried to stop himself from laughing his ass off. It was a bit harsher than Anna deserved, she was simply misguidedly trying to help in her attempts to correct Cas's performance, but he did agree that she couldn't get away with thinking she had authority that she didn't possess, especially considering the way in which she did so. When Meg returned from the hallway to give Cas a smile, Dean couldn't hold it in any longer and busted out laughing.

"You're alright, Masters," Dean told her after his fit of laughter subsided, and Meg gave a tiny smile before hardening her face again.

"That was for your boyfriend; the only reason I don't hate you is because you don't suck at your job," she stated, before turning to walk in the direction of the sound crew. Cas couldn't help but chuckle at that.

* * *

It was a grueling rehearsal; working things out with the pit orchestra always took a lot of trial and error to see what worked the best, and it made the progression of the show sluggish and with many starts and stops. By the time the break actually came around, both Castiel and Dean were slightly agitated, and they sought each other's company to relax a little bit. They walked hand in hand to one of the back hallways, originally intending to sneak off for a little bit of kissing, but their spot was taken by Sam and Gabriel having an intense conversation. Cas looked at Dean, who shrugged, and when Sam and Gabriel didn't notice them, they both moved into a spot in the hallway that was optimal for eavesdropping, an open doorway of a room just down the hall from them.

"Come on, Gabe, will you just stop it already?" Sam requested irritatedly.

"You know the conditions, I'm not backing down on any of them," Gabriel replied matter-of-factly.

Dean could tell just from the tone of the conversation that Sam was probably throwing out bitchface number thirty-three, 'Give me what I want or I'll smack you.'

Sam huffed. "Gabe, you've made it more than clear that you want me. Why won't you just come get it?"

Gabriel chuckled. "See, if I made it that easy, you wouldn't stick around for more. Yeah, you're right, I do want you, but we're not having sex until you date me. For a month."

"A  _month_? Since when did it become a month?"

"Since I figured you would probably say you'd be my boyfriend just to get some action before you took off," Gabriel answered.

Dean looked at Cas and raised his eyebrows. Cas simply shrugged in response, looking thoughtful. This was definitely a change. He could tell that Gabriel was withholding sex from Sam for some reason, but he had no idea that Gabe actually wanted to date his brother. And he wanted to date him for a month before they got into bed together. Dean's respect for Gabriel went up a few notches. The guy was alright.

"This just isn't worth it," Sam told him angrily. "First of all, why the hell would I want to date you in the first place? You're obnoxious, crude, you make innuendos every half a second and then never follow up on them, almost everyone important hates you because you're difficult to work with, and you know what? I give up. So I'll take door number two, and not involve myself with you at all. Because if it's this difficult just to - mmph!"

Dean and Cas both stopped, gaping at each other, before whipping their heads around the edge of the alcove to see Gabriel kissing Sam passionately. They looked back at each other again, before quickly pulling themselves back into the doorway when Gabriel pulled away.

"Trust me, Sammy, it's worth it," Gabriel told him cheekily before retreating down the hallway. Cas and Dean pulled themselves further into the room as Gabe passed, and then stuck their heads out down the hall to see Sam standing frozen in the same position, blushing straight crimson and touching two fingers to his lips as if he was wondering what exactly had just happened to them. Dean couldn't help but chuckle quietly at his brother's flustered look, and Sam whipped his head up, seeing them in the brief instant before Cas yanked Dean back into the doorway.

"Dammit, DEAN!" Sam whined from down the hallway, and Dean and Cas left the room sheepishly, not able to control themselves from laughing.

"Jeez, Sammy, that belonged on a soap opera," Dean told him. The angriest look came across Sam's face, but it was impossible for Sam to actually look menacing while angry, so he just looked adorably annoyed. "Ooh, bitchface number seven, 'Leave right now before I hurt you,'" he teased.

As Sam started down the hallway angrily, Dean grabbed Cas's hand and pulled him, running in the direction of the stage. "Sorry, Sam, I couldn't stop him!" Cas called in a last-ditch effort as they entered the stage doors just as break ended.

* * *

The blonde man had a gorgeous hotel room, with a plush velvet chaise lounge by the window. This was where he sat, thinking. One long finger traced the rim of his wineglass as he reclined back lazily. Maybe he'd had a bit too much to drink - drinking made him thoughtful, and, after all, he was here not to think, but to act.

"Castiel," he muttered. "Castiel, what have you done..."

He'd seen Castiel and his new lover - that grease-stained, country-backwoods boy toy, Dean Winchester - almost everywhere together. If Castiel wasn't with that girl, Jo, he was with Dean.

And certainly, Dean was brawny and green-eyed and so very much the alpha male, so of course Castiel would want to sleep with him.

The blonde man let out a bitter laugh and reached for his phone. He put his wineglass too close to the edge of the table, though, and it spilled, the dark red seeping into the deep ivory color. He smiled down at it with what was more an ugly grimace, and dialed a number.

There were things he needed to procure, after all, before he could do what he wanted to do.

Left unattended, the dark red wine stain spread further into the carpet, soaking further and further into the fibers, ingraining itself in the color of blood.

* * *

"Wanna watch a movie at my place before you go home for the night?" Cas asked, leaning over the counter as he sipped his last coffee of the day.

"What, no boyfriend tonight?" Jo teased. "I thought you liked him better than me."

"Oh please," Cas replied, laughing. "I've known you longer. And besides, he's having a brother's night with Sam."

"Yeah, sure, I see how it is. Lemme just close up," she told him, laughing and taking off her green apron and hanging it on a rack beside the door to the back room. She locked the cash register, closed all of the doors, and Cas waited at the front entrance as she set the alarm. As they walked outside, Jo turned around to lock the main door, and then turned to smile at him. "I'm too lazy to pay attention to something new. Mean Girls?"

Cas grinned. "Mean Girls it is." They had seen that movie probably over a hundred times, and could basically say all of the lines along with the actors. Cas stopped for a second, slapping his palm to his face. "My God, Jo, I'm  _so_  gay!" The two of them cracked up before walking over the crosswalk headed towards Cas's apartment building.

They crossed the street, continuing onto the sidewalk on the opposite side. Cas glanced behind them and across the street, and caught a glimpse of a blonde man leaning against the corner of a building. He froze, stopping dead in his tracks, his heart beating faster in his chest, and from their distance, he couldn't quite tell, but it looked like the man was watching him. Could it be…? Cas stopped that train of thought in its tracks as a rather long city bus crossed in front of the man, and when it had passed, he was gone.

"Cas, you alright?" Jo asked, looking back at him worriedly.

"Yeah, I, uh… I just thought I saw something. It's fine." Cas used the most reassuring tone he could muster, but he could tell that his voice wavered, and he hoped Jo didn't catch on.

"Alright…" Jo responded awkwardly. "Let's go then!" The two continued on to Castiel's apartment, the sight of the blonde headed man that looked strangely like his worst nightmare haunting him until his head hit the pillow.


	10. The Tango Maureen

**Chapter Ten: The Tango Maureen**

Despite the slow rehearsals, hell week passed in a blur. The days were slow, but the week went by fast, and by the time the day of the performance came, tensions were high. Everything had been worked out and was running smoothly, perfectly, even, and there was no reason to be anxious that anything would go wrong, but everyone was nervous. It was only a benefit performance, but they found out that Michael would be bringing several possible investors, making the performance a workshop of sorts. It was, after all, an original show, and if the people holding the fat wallets liked it, there was a chance they could be taken further than a one-night benefit performance.

The morning of the show, Castiel stood in his bathroom in only sweatpants, splashing his face with water from the sink. He placed his hands on the edge of the vanity counter and looked up into the mirror, taking into account his sunken eyes, dark circles, and tired appearance. It wasn't just from the long hours of rehearsals, either. He had been seeing the blonde man every day, in different places, and every time he seemed to disappear suddenly after something passed in front of him for a few seconds or if Cas lost sight of him for a little while. It was intensely disturbing.

"Hey gorgeous," Dean said as he walked into the bathroom, also shirtless, and pulled Cas into him from behind, wrapping his arms around his waist. "Tonight's the big night, I'm beyond excited."

"That makes one of us…" Cas said morosely, and a worried expression came across Dean's face.

"You okay, Cas?" he asked tentatively. The last thing Cas needed was a breakdown on the day of the show.

Cas sighed, pulling himself from Dean's hold and turning around to face him. "I look like I stayed up for three days straight and then got hit by a bus, I'm nervous as all hell because we have only one chance not to screw up, and on top of that, remember that time I told you about when I thought I saw Balthazar? Well it's been happening every day, at least once, whether I'm walking with you or Jo or alone. It's throwing me off."

"Are you sure you're seeing him and not just random blonde guys in the city?" Dean asked him.

Cas exhaled shakily. "I'm positive. He's always leaning up against a building far enough that I can't see his face clearly, but he's always watching me. And then I look away or something crosses in front of him and when I look back, he's gone. I… I'm starting to think I'm just seeing things. Like all of the stress I've had about those memories in the past few weeks are manifesting themselves in some crazy hallucinations or something."

"Cas, look at me," Dean told him. "You're not crazy. If you're seeing him, then he's probably back in town. And if he's following you and watching you, then he's something to worry about. I'm not going to let him get anywhere near you. And if he does, he'll pay for it." The last sentence sounded ominous and threatening, almost to the point where it scared Cas, even though Dean's aim was to protect him.

"I guess… it's scaring me," Cas replied honestly. "I just need to shake it off and forget about it because tonight I have to do well and I won't if I'm busy focusing on that. So from this point on, it's out of my head."

"Good, that's a really good attitude, Cas," Dean complimented, placing a kiss on his forehead and pulling him into an embrace. "Now then, let's get the hell ready for this shit!" He pumped his fist in the air, charging the air with the excitement that should have been buzzing around all morning.

As they walked down to the theater later that afternoon, Cas kept glancing around nervously for any sign of Balthazar, whether he was just in Castiel's head or not. They made it to the theater uneventfully, and Cas began the long process of hair, makeup, and costuming while Dean went to the crew room for last-minute organization.

By the time the early evening rolled around and everything was falling into place, the venue had begun allowing people in, and before long, the loud white noise of the chatter of the audience could be heard echoing through the corridors of the theater. From the sound of it, the place was packed.

When the time came that people needed to be getting set at their places, Cas saw Meg grab the edge of the doorway and swing her body to lean inside. "Twenty minutes!" she called into the dressing room in her loudest voice, nearly shocking one of the makeup artist into smearing eyeliner all over the face of one of the dancers.

"Meg, take it down a notch!" Cas called, and she grinned, winking before swinging herself right back out. Cas meandered through a back corridor to do a little bit of private, quiet breathing to get himself in the zone, and as he walked down the hallway towards the back door, he stopped to read a text message from Jo saying, 'Break a leg!' He smiled, texting a response, and looked up again, to see Balthazar's face staring at him from the window in the back door, still at a distance, and he dropped his phone, stopping in his tracks as his heart skipped a beat before his pulse quickened, his stomach dropped, and his breath sped up. He glanced around to make sure nobody was watching, and by the time he looked back, Balthazar was gone.

He scrambled around to pick up his phone before sprinting back through the hallways to the crew room, feeling nauseous and upset, and he bit his lip so hard that he nearly drew blood as he frantically yanked open the door. "DEAN!" he yelled, and Dean's head shot up from where he was standing with the rest of the crew, and seeing Cas's panicked expression, ran over to meet him before he pulled him out the door, closing it behind them.

"Hey, hey, Cas, it's okay, what's wrong?" Dean frantically tried to calm his near-gasping boyfriend as he clutched at Dean's shirt.

"I saw him… in the window of the back door. He was just staring at me, with this awful stoic expression, and I looked around and then looked back and he was gone, and I don't even know if he's there because there's no way he could have known I'd be coming back there, and Dean I can't do this right now, God damn it!" Cas built himself up into a stressed-out frustration, and Dean gripped him tighter before pushing him back enough to press his lips to Cas's firmly and passionately. Cas made a noise at the back of his throat before kissing Dean back, needy and frantic.

Dean pulled away, grabbing Cas's shoulders and looking directly into his eyes. "Cas," he began, firmly yet reassuringly. "Whatever the hell he's doing, it's something fucked up and crazy and we'll figure it all out after tonight is over. But he cannot hurt you. Not while I'm around. You're going to go on that stage, and you're going to open your mouth, and the second you start singing you're going to knock that audience dead. You're… you're absolutely breathtaking, Cas." Dean could see the single tear escape Cas's eyes at the compliment. "You have the voice of an angel, hell, you  _are_  an angel. You're my angel. And you're going to put on the best show that audience has ever seen, and there ain't a damn thing Balthazar is going to do that will stop you from getting in that spotlight and shining brighter than anything I've ever known."

"…Thank you," Cas whispered, pressing his head into Dean's chest and leaning up to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Cas! There you are, Jesus!" Meg's head popped out from the crew room. "Five minutes till showtime. Places people!" She said the last sentence into her headset so that all of the techies and dressing rooms could hear her.

"You're going to be amazing, break a leg, baby," Dean told Cas, who grinned in excitement as Dean kissed him once again before shooing him off to the stage.

The show went flawlessly. Every dance number, every song, every scene, every set change, every lighting cue, all went perfectly. Not a single error was made, and the actors were at the top of their game. By the time the final show-stopping number was over, the audience members had already erupted into applause and were standing on their feet. The crew ran on stage to take their bow before running back off as the cast and company took their bows, and Castiel had the entire audience screaming when he took the final solo bow. As soon as the curtains closed, the entire cast was hugging each other happily and running backstage to scream excitedly, and barely registered Crowley and Michael complimenting them on how well it went. Dean and Cas shared a heated kiss in the middle of it all, amongst wolf-whistles and cheers from their fellow company members, and then the small group of Dean, Cas, Sam, Gabriel, and Meg gathered to agree to meet up at Dean's apartment as soon as they left, and Cas met the beyond ecstatic Jo outside, where she stood with Adam, who was also beaming. The show was a huge success, especially for a one-night benefit performance.

"CAS, YOU WERE FUCKING FANTASTIC!" Jo screamed, tackling him in a giant hug, which he returned with enthusiasm.

"You and Adam, come to my apartment like right now, we're having a little get-together," Cas told them, and Jo nodded excitedly before dragging Adam off in the direction of Cas's place, where Dean would be waiting; he had left earlier than everyone else to make sure things were okay for company. Cas smirked before running back inside to grab Sam, Gabriel, and Meg, before heading in that direction himself.

* * *

Cas's apartment was decently sized, and with the group being as small as it was, all of them fit fine along the island in his kitchen. Jo was snuggled up to Adam, and they were, of course, lavishing Cas with praise. Meg lurked in the corner by the sink, and Gabriel was refusing to properly look at Sam, who was giving him bitch face number 63 ('Pay attention to me, dammit!'). Dean had an arm looped casually around his boyfriend's waist, with Cas preoccupied with his wineglass.

Cas looked radiant. He always did, but tonight, with the post-show glow of triumph, he was particularly beautiful, and Dean felt humbled that Cas was his. He put his glass down and brushed his hand against Cas's hip, smiling a little. He was a lucky, lucky man. Cas instinctively leaned into the touch, his smile just a touch brighter, and Jo's eyes flashed to Dean for a second, almost like a conspiratorial "I see what you did there."

Dean glanced at Meg, and she was watching the proceedings, but not really participating much at all - not that Dean was, either - but she was seemingly in as good as a mood as ever, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, which was quite rare for Meg.

The party continued on, and maybe he shouldn't have let Gabriel get at the hard liquor, because by two in the morning, Gabriel had decided to perform the entirety of the RENT soundtrack, and, well, Meg had decided to join him after setting up her camera because humiliating Gabriel was irresistible.

" _This is weird, very weird_ ," Gabriel was singing, leaning against the island.

"I probably should have mentioned my cousin is a singing drunk," Cas whispered into Dean's ear. They'd relocated to the couch while Jo and Adam had squeezed themselves into an armchair. Gabriel and Meg had the run of the kitchen floor and the island - but Dean was  _not_  looking forward to the two performing  _La Vie Boheme_  on top of it. Still, when Cas starting pitching in to provide backup vocals and harmonies, Dean couldn't help but smile.

Sam was perched on the end of the couch farthest from Gabriel and Meg, who proceeded to tango across the kitchen with frightening ease. Dean, have I mentioned I hate your coworkers?" He followed this with bitch face number 13, aimed at Meg ("I'm so fucking jealous").

"Oh please," Dean responded, rolling his eyes. "That's why you keep trying to fuck Gabriel, you just hate him  _so_  much." Cas laughed into Dean's collarbone.

" _When you're dancing her dance, you don't stand a chance_ ," Gabriel sang, Meg spinning and dipping him for the next line, " _Her grip on romance makes you fall..._ "

" _But you say, 'Might as well dance the tango to Hell -_ '" Meg interjected, and, judging by the look she shot Sam, she was sober enough to know exactly what was going on.

They chorused the next line: " _At least I'll have tango'd at all!_ "

Gabriel moved toward Sam - staggering drunk, and if Meg hadn't been holding him up previously, he wouldn't have stayed upright - as he finished the song, eventually leaning hard on the arm of the couch, " _Why do we love when she's mean? And she can be so obscene... my Maureen..."_

" _The tango... Maureen_ ," Meg echoed, smirking at Sam and Gabriel.

Dean had to admit that Meg had won a lot of his respect with that little number; they would have blackmail material on Gabriel for the rest of time with this.

Sam seemed more confused than anything else, giant girl that he was, as Gabriel dropped his face into the juncture of Sam's neck and shoulder. Dean shook his head and pulled Cas a little closer, whispering, "Gabe's got it bad for Sammy, looks like."

"He talks about Sam almost as much as I talk about you. Poor Jo, having to deal with the both of us."

Jo apparently had some kind of mutant super-hearing, because she laughed and kissed Adam's cheek. "I don't mind." Adam turned into the kiss, and Dean couldn't help but smile at the way Cas was beaming over it.

Aside from Sam and Gabriel (who really just needed to get their shit together) and Meg (who seemed happy enough on her own), everyone was pretty happy and paired off. And that was pretty damn awesome, considering that, before he literally tripped over Cas, he hadn't even been  _thinking_  about a relationship with anybody, even in general.

"Oh God," Meg said, "I'm drowning in romance right now. Someone, rescue me from this horror before they start spouting poetry."

"Oh shuuuuuut ittttt Meggykins," Gabriel slurred. "You know you love it."

"Blatant lies," she replied forcefully. "And if you call me Meggykins ever again, I'm going to rip your testicles off. Now, I'm out." She walked over to the rest of them, petting Gabriel on the head like a child as she passed him. She shook Jo and Adam's hands - "It's been a pleasure to meet you" - and kissed Cas and Sam each on the cheek - "Good night" - and gave Dean the look that undoubtedly meant, 'Whatever happens, you tell me in the morning.'

"Night, Meg," they all chorused at her as she grabbed her leather jacket off the back of her chair and sauntered out, boots clicking on the linoleum.

Somewhere in the middle of Meg's goodbyes, Gabriel had wormed his way into Sam's lap, curling up and clinging like a limpet to his chest. Sam closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. It wasn't quite a bitch face - Dean wasn't sure he'd ever seen this expression on his brother's face before.

It was more like Sam had taken the bitch face and added fondness to it, reinforced by the fact that he ran a hand resignedly through his hair before wrapping an arm around Gabriel's waist.

"Sam-squatch?" Gabriel murmured, almost too low for Dean to hear. But he did hear, and  _damn_  did Gabe sound like Sam had just hung the moon up in the night sky. Sam seemed to have noticed the reverence in Gabriel's voice, too, and bit his lip, looking down at Gabriel, who stretched a little bit as he yawned.

"You need to get home," Sam told him softly. "And we can't have you wandering Manhattan as drunk as you are."

Dean wasn't  _exactly_  sure where this was going, but the soft fondness in Sam's voice made him relatively sure that Sam wasn't going to drag Gabriel off and take advantage of him - not that Sam would ever do that, anyway, but this just made it clear as crystal.

"Take me home?" Gabriel asked, looking up at Sam.

"Yeah," Sam mumbled. "Yeah."

Jo and Cas looked like they were about to explode with happiness, and Dean wrapped his arms tighter around Cas. He couldn't help but feel happy himself, because Sam deserved happiness, and it looked like, if he got his head out of his ass, he'd get it.

Sam stood up, hooking Gabriel under the arms to get him to his feet. "Time to go home."

"Yuh-huh," Gabriel replied. "Room spinning." He almost fell over, but Sam steadied him, moving behind him to keep him upright.

"Have fun, kids, and use protection," Dean quipped at Sam.

"Jerk," Sam responded, and he actually looked angry.

"Jeez, just a joke, bitch." Dean gestured the universal 'hey, calm the fuck down' sign. "But seriously, be careful."

He meant with Gabriel, and given the look Sam was giving him, he got the message.

"Yeah, I will."

Cas got up from the couch and saw Sam and Gabriel to the door, stopping briefly to pull Sam aside and tell him something Dean couldn't hear, voice and expression earnest and almost pleading.

"Good night, Sam, Gabe," Jo called after them, and Sam looked back and nodded at the rest of them, arm coiled tight around Gabriel.

The door shut behind them, and Jo yawned, pressing closer to Adam.

"I think that's our cue to go," Adam said, smiling. "Someone has a shift tomorrow and needs her beauty rest."

"Asshole," Jo mumbled, completely without vitriol.

They got up, and Jo crossed the room to Cas and hugged him hard. "You, my dear, are a star," she said. "You're going to win a TONY before you're thirty, no doubt about it."

Cas's smile accompanied a flush and stammered, "One can only hope."

"Now, have some fun and get some sleep," she said, casting a wicked smile Dean's way. "In that order, or I'll have to screw with your coffee."

"That would be Hell," Dean said. "You can't possibly be that cruel."

"You haven't known her as long as I have," Cas replied, inching away from Jo. "She knows she has power, and she uses it for both good  _and_  evil."

"You bet your ass I do," Jo said, triumphant.

Dean laughed and kissed her cheek when she offered it, and shook Adam's hand, and then the two made their way into the night like the others had, leaving Dean and Cas alone in the apartment together.

Cas smiled at Dean, stepping closer and keeping his so very blue eyes on him in that way he had of pinning Dean down with a look. Dean adored those eyes like he adored everything else about Cas, and he leaned in to kiss Cas with his eyes open, just so he could see them slide shut in pleasure. Cas loved kissing almost more than was reasonable, and Dean was always happy to oblige him.

They stood there by the door, pressed tight against each other from mouth to hip, kissing, for what seemed like a long time. It was soft and comfortable, tongues moving languidly over each other like they had all the time in the world just for this.

There was no urgency here, nothing like that at all, but eventually, the quiet simmering of need pooling in their hips couldn't be ignored for any longer.

"Shall we take this to the bedroom?" Dean asked, dropping a kiss to the spot just below Cas's ear that always made him fall limp and moaning in Dean's arms when licked or bitten just so. It worked as it should, and Cas nodded, licking his way across Dean's jaw to kiss him again.

Dean let him, deepening the kiss with a hand in Cas's unruly hair, and walked him backward to the hallway. He could make this walk in the dark, after so many evenings spent at Cas's place, and he didn't have anything to worry about as he guided Cas down the hall, stopping every now and then for a kiss or a quick grope, their bodies already tangling together, even though no hands had yet ventured under clothing.

"I've got a present for you," Dean murmured, opening the door to the bedroom as he finally, finally started pushing his hands up under Cas's shirt.

"The sexy kind?"

"That too," Dean replied, rolling his eyes fondly. "But this is more practical than the sexy kind."

Cas looked at him dubiously, as if to say that nothing could possibly be more practical than the sexy kind of present.

"It's really starting to get cold out," Dean murmured, dropping a kiss to Cas's jaw before extricating himself enough to move to the side of the bed, where he had stored a relatively large gift bag. "And I saw this, and, for whatever reason, I thought you ought to have it."

'This' was a tan trench coat, gently folded, and he handed it to Cas, who looked from the coat to Dean and back again before taking it, running a hand over the fabric as if it were something utterly precious.

He leaned in and kissed Dean, long and sweet and sensuous. "Thank you." Another kiss. "It's wonderful." Another. "I love it." And then, he fixed Dean with the most intense, powerful gaze that Dean had ever seen come from his eyes, before he said the next three words. "I love  _you_."

The world fell down around Dean's ears as his heart skipped several beats.

"I - I gotta go," Dean stammered, unable to say or do anything else but scramble from the bed and Cas, fleeing the room and the apartment as Cas simply sat, stunned, looking in the direction of the bedroom door with injured, tearing eyes.


	11. Quitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you guys hadn't noticed, the chapter titles are all songs, so that you don't get the wrong impression. This chapter is Quitter by Carrie Underwood. It has nothing to do with either of them being a quitter. XD

**Chapter Eleven: Quitter**

Castiel woke up the morning after the show, and the first thing that came back to his mind was Dean leaving. He didn't understand – not at all – why Dean would leave the way that he did.

What had Cas done wrong?

He'd only said he loved him, and damn it, he did. He loved him. He'd known that for a while – maybe since the night he'd told him about Balthazar.

He needed to know what was going on in Dean-land, because, as far as he was concerned, it had to be something pretty fricking bad to elicit a reaction like that in a situation like theirs. Plus, it hurt. It hurt to be the one essentially left out in the rain with all of this, and Castiel really felt he deserved better than this.

So he walked to Dean's apartment building – it wasn't really that far away – and exchanged a few quick words with the receptionist. She'd seen him before, so she let him up without any trouble.

He took a deep breath as he got off the elevator on Dean's floor, steeling himself.

If he was going to be rejected, fine. He'd deal with it. He'd been brokenhearted before and survived it. He still had Jo and Gabriel, after all.

He knocked on the door, and Dean blanched when he opened it and saw Castiel standing there.

"Oh. Um, hi?" Dean said, flushing and refusing to meet Castiel's eyes.

"Hi," Castiel replied. "You…you kind of freaked out on me last night." He paused. "I'm sorry, I just – I thought it was appropriate."

"No, Cas, don't apologise – I –"

"Is this the part of the romance novel where you say 'It's not you, it's me?'" Cas asked, trying desperately to lighten the tone of the situation. "I never liked that part, you know."

"I'm not breaking up with you," Dean said, shaking his head sharply. It was anathema to him – the idea of losing Cas just because of his own stupid hang-ups – and he didn't want Cas to even entertain the notion that he could do something like that.

Cas smiled. "Good." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Dean's lips.

Dean took the opportunity this provided him and slid his hand up behind Cas's neck to pull him closer and deepen the kiss, his mouth moving against his in that slick slide he knew Cas loved.

Cas wondered if maybe it wasn't that Dean didn't love him, so much as that he couldn't say it, for whatever reason. This kiss, for example, reminded him of the night he'd told Dean about Balthazar, and Dean had taken him apart with tender, exacting slowness – that had been  _making love_ , not just fucking or having sex.

"Why?" he asked when they broke for air.

"Huh?" Dean asked back, moving to kiss his way up the line of Cas's jaw. "What do you mean, baby?"

Cas tilted his head to give Dean better access to his throat. "Why did it freak you out so much last night? You kind of scared me, leaving like that."

"Sorry," Dean murmured, mouthing at the juncture between Cas's jaw and his throat, just below his ear. "But, Cas, please. I don't want to talk about this." He really didn't – he  _couldn't_  talk about this. Not now, probably not ever. He was just too fucking damaged.

Cas turned his head and caught Dean's lips with his own. "I love you, Dean –"

"Please don't, Cas. Don't…" Dean shook his head. "I can't – can't have this conversation. Please, just don't."

Cas pulled back, something like anger stirring in the pit of his stomach. "Can't, Dean? Or  _won't?_ "

Dean shook his head emphatically. "Cas, just, please…"

"Why can't I tell you the truth, Dean? I love you, and I don't mind if you don't feel the same way – but if you don't, I at least deserve to know that, don't I? Don't  _I_  deserve the truth?"

Dean pulled Cas back in for another kiss, searing this time. He couldn't say it, not even to himself, but he'd be damned if he couldn't show it. Cas meant more to him than any other fucking human being, except Sammy, on the entire planet. He wasn't going to let this slip away.

But Cas pulled away, stepping out of reach. He couldn't just let this go – this was too important. He needed to know exactly where he stood with Dean; he couldn't do that without words.

"Please, Dean, just tell me."

Dean shook his head again. "Cas, I – please, just drop it. I can't, I can't deal with this right now. Just let it be, I'm begging you." He couldn't lose Cas, not to this – not to his stupid fucking baggage.

But that would be just how it would happen, wouldn't it? Cas deserved way better than he was getting with Dean. He deserved someone who didn't have all of this coming with him, all the dark and painful past and that  _one thing_  he still refused to deal with, and this, too.

Cas stepped back into his space and cupped Dean's face in his hands. "Dean. Why can't I say it? It's okay, if you can't – for whatever reason. But right now, I need to know why you don't want  _me_  to say it."

"Because then I need to say it back, and Cas – Cas, I can't do that." It sounded fucking stupid even to his own ears, but it was true.

"Dean…"

"I can't lose you too, Cas," he murmured, looking down at their feet. "I can't lose you too."

Cas stepped back again, this time as if burned, his hands leaving Dean's face and clenching into fists. "I'm not leaving you, Dean.  _I love you._  There's no reason in all the world that I'd leave you, do you under – "

The rest of the sentence was drowned out by Dean slamming the door in his face.

Cas stood there, feeling the sound like a punch to the gut. He stared at the door, and felt tears welling up in his eyes.

He didn't understand – he really didn't. Why in God's name would Dean do this? What made him so terrified of those three words that he'd shut Cas out like this?

He turned away from the door and walked down the hall, jabbing the elevator button a little harder than was necessary – and who could blame him, after the fight he'd just had? The man he loved, for whatever reason, couldn't deal with being loved, and being told so.

In the elevator, Cas resolutely wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes and pulled out his phone.

"Sam, can I come over? I need to talk to you about something."

* * *

Sam opened the door even more quickly than Dean had, and ushered Cas inside. He looked like he had just thrown himself into some clothes when Cas called him.

"So, what happened?" he asked, pouring Cas a cup of coffee and leading him to the living room. Cas, frankly, looked like shit, and that did  _not_  bode well for anybody involved in whatever had made him upset. Sam sat down on his couch and patted the spot next to him.

Cas sat, all the resolve washing out of him – at least  _one_  Winchester could be counted on when the other couldn't even make sense. "I told Dean I love him."

Sam's eyes widened for an instant, and he put his own coffee down. "I understand."

"He…he ran away. He freaked out, and left my apartment – it was only a little bit after you and Gabriel left." Cas paused, taking a deep breath. "He had just given me a coat, as a congratulatory gift, and I…I thought it was appropriate to tell him – and I  _wanted_  to tell him, so much…"

Sam nodded, his presence looming steady. "So he just walked out?"

Cas nodded in return.

"What was going on on his face? Was he scared? Or was it something else?" Sam asked, taking a sip of his coffee. It really all came down to that – was Dean running out of fear?

"I thought so – and this morning, I went to his apartment to ask what had gone wrong." Castiel balanced his elbows on his knees and scrubbed his face with one hand. He felt exhausted by the whole situation, his body and mind drained by physical and emotional fatigue. "We had a fight."

Sam reached over and closed a large hand over Cas's knee. "I'm sorry."

"He said something, though, after I told him again that I love him – I wouldn't drop the matter, because I don't understand what's happening – he said something along the lines of not wanting me to leave him." He turned to Sam, imploring him with his eyes. "I don't understand. I love him – why would I leave him?"

Sam swallowed. Normally, he wouldn't explain Dean's issues to someone like this, but Cas was hurting over this, and he didn't want this to get blown all out of proportion.

"Dean…he's got some issues." Wow, way to state the obvious there, Sam thought to himself. "Abandonment issues."

Cas nodded. He wasn't sure, precisely, where this was going, but this in and of itself gave him a little insight. Somehow, those three words had gotten associated with something awful – somebody leaving. He hoped he could fix that; he couldn't change the past, but he knew he could change the future, if Dean let him.

Sam sighed. "The last thing Mom said to him before she died was that she loved him. And Dad…we all thought he was getting somewhere. We thought things were gonna be okay again, finally. Dad told us both he loved us…he died pretty soon after that." Sam didn't dare bring up the most recent thing that had fucked up Dean's concept of love – that was too recent, too new, and  _definitely_  something only Dean should reveal. "So Dean's kinda terrified. He feels like he loses people he loves when they tell him they love him. I'm the only one who hasn't."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Cas murmured. There was little else he could say, even though his mind was working a mile a minute – he had to find some way to fix this. "I wish…I wish there was more I could do."

"I recommend that you go back to Dean's place, and reassure him that things are still okay between the two of you, and they're gonna stay that way." Sam shrugged. "He's not going to be able to tell you he loves you yet, but I don't think he's felt the way he feels about you for anyone else. Whatever he wants to call it, you're incredibly important to him."

"Thank you," Cas said softly.

There was a loud groan, suddenly, from down the hallway. "Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam."

Sam went very red. "Uh," he spluttered, "please pretend you didn't hear that. Or at least, that you aren't gonna tell Dean the second you see him."

"I'll give him a few minutes," Cas replied, smirking. Obviously, that voice down the hallway was Gabriel.

Sam sighed. "In case you're wondering, nothing actually  _happened_  last night. I just, y'know, brought him back here and bundled him into bed. I'm not that kind of creep."

Cas thought back to the conversation they'd had before Sam had left the apartment. He smiled. "I know."

Footsteps in the hallway heralded Gabriel's arrival. He staggered, leaning heavily into the wall, but his eyes were so squinted that Castiel basically assumed he couldn't see a thing. He couldn't help but smile as Sam got up and pulled Gabriel off the wall, half-holding him up himself.

Then, the oddest thing happened. Sam, still blushing scarlet, dropped his head to press a gentle kiss to the top of Gabriel's.

Castiel raised an eyebrow in their direction, and Sam mouthed "shut up" at him.

Gabriel, though, smiled. It was a soft, almost secret little smile, and Cas couldn't help but smile in reaction. "Nothing happened, hmm?"

"Samsquatch here finally said yeah to me," Gabriel said, eyes opening a little. He sounded ecstatic despite his massive hangover, and was actively clinging to Sam now. Cas smiled widely – finally, they could get around to what they really wanted out of each other. Dean might be damaged, yes, but it was clear that Sam had also been uncomfortable with being loved. And Gabriel? Well, it was always good to see his cousin happy.

"I'm happy for the both of you," Cas said, rising from the couch himself. "But I should go. I'm sure the longer I'm away, the more Dean will…well."

Sam nodded, and Gabriel didn't seem to be paying attention.

Castiel was still smiling as he hugged the both of them and excused himself.

He had work to do.

* * *

Dean was lying on the couch the next time his doorbell rang, thinking about how stupid he'd been. He couldn't keep doing this – eventually, it would push Cas away, and he couldn't deal with that. Not now, when Cas had entrenched himself so deeply into Dean's life. Hell, Cas's cousin was probably going to wind up dating Sammy. It's not like this was some three-week fling or a one-night-stand or whatever.

Cas was different. Cas was…Cas. Lover, boyfriend, whatever the fuck you called it, and no matter how fuckin' girly it sounded, Cas was  _special._

Maybe he couldn't say the words Cas wanted to hear, but he damn straight knew how to make a big gesture, and it definitely felt like it was time for one of those.

And he knew just what gesture to make, too.

So, when the doorbell rang, he got up from the couch, heart tripping double-time in his chest, and he opened it. There was Cas, standing there almost as though he'd never left, but there was something new in the way he held himself, some new understanding.

It ought to scare him, but right now, he just wanted things to be okay again.

"Dean," Cas said softly, and pulled him into a kiss. "I'm sorry – Sam told me about your parents. I didn't mean to bring back any bad memories for you."

He was either gonna kill Sammy or send him a fucking fruit basket.

"I…" he trailed off, pulling Cas close and walking them backward into the apartment, shutting the door behind Cas. "Thank you."

Cas ran his hands down Dean's back, soft and comforting, tucking his head into the juncture of Dean's neck and his shoulder. There was only so much he could do for Dean, but damn him if he wasn't going to try. Dean was one of the most important people in his life – no matter if Dean didn't want to hear it, he  _loved him._  "If you ever need to talk about it, I'm here."

He pulled back, bringing his hands up to lace his fingers behind Dean's head. "I'm not going anywhere, Dean. You'll have me for as long as you want me."

It was a massive, dangerous statement to make, but it needed to be said. If Dean wouldn't stand an  _I love you_ , this was the next best thing, Cas thought. He kissed him, soft and sweet, to punctuate the declaration, and just held him for a while.

"Thank you," Dean said again, voice breaking. He felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. God, Cas was incredible. "I, uh, want to ask you something."

"Anything," Cas said, pulling back and kissing him on the cheek. Stubble rasped against his lips, but that was one of the many things Cas loved about Dean, anyway.

Dean took a deep breath, tightening his arms around Cas's waist.

"When does the lease on your apartment expire?" he asked, almost too quickly. It had to be asked – what Dean was hoping to do, it was big.

Cas blinked, his mouth opening briefly. "Just at the end of the month. A week or so."

"D'you…" Dean averted his eyes, his face flushing. God, he felt like he was back in ninth grade, admitting his first crush to somebody. "D'you wanna, maybe, move in with me?"

Castiel's jaw dropped, eyes widening. This was incredible. More than incredible. This was an action that spoke much louder than words ever could; Dean was basically asking him to be a permanent fixture in his life, if not in so many words.

Dean's blush deepened. "I mean, it's okay if you're not comfortable with that yet, but I…I thought it'd be nice."

"It's perfect," Cas replied. "Just perfect."

He pulled Dean into a deep, triumphant kiss. Cas couldn't help himself; this was beautiful. He was going to move in with Dean come the end of the month – that was a commitment surer than any "I love you" could ever be. It would be okay. It was already far better than okay.

Dean cleaved to him, wrapping his arms as tightly as he could without causing pain. The kiss got deeper and fuller as it progressed, though it did so slowly, languidly. It wasn't really a kiss made out of desire, but a kiss made out of affection, of the depth of feeling that they both felt. They were going somewhere with this; they were stable and  _happy._

"Thank you," Cas said softly, and there were tears of joy in his eyes. "Thank you so much."

Dean nodded, not really sure if there was anything he could really say to that. Instead, he pulled Cas in for another kiss, and smiled when they parted.

He thought back to the night before, and he realized he'd left certain things unfinished. His smile turned a little bit wicked as he kissed Cas again, searing this time, nipping at his bottom lip. He pulled back a little, only to walk Cas back to the wall next to the door. "Hey, baby," he murmured, kissing his way to Cas's ear. "We never finished what we started last night, did we?"

Cas's answering smirk was answer enough, but the icing on the cake was the way he slid his hands down to cup Dean's ass and murmured, "Oh, I think we should."


	12. Crazy Dreams

**Chapter Twelve: Crazy Dreams**

Castiel woke up the next morning, and groggily felt around for Dean's warmth. Realizing he was in an empty bed, he sat up slowly, yawning and stretching his back. Dean was probably making breakfast or something.

Rolling over, he realized that his ass was sore. Because boy, did Dean make up for running out on him. He made up for it fast, hard, and nearly all night long. Castiel grinned in remembrance, sliding the sheets off his body and moving to the edge of the bed.

Standing up, he realized he still wasn't clothed, so he grabbed a pair of Dean's pajama pants from his dresser drawer and slipped them on, padding over to the bathroom quietly to brush his teeth. He had been keeping a toothbrush at Dean's for some time now, but a huge smile plastered itself across Castiel's face as he realized that he would be keeping a hell of a lot more at Dean's apartment, no, their apartment, now that Cas would be moving in soon. Just the thought filled his heart with a soaring happiness that he felt could keep him content for the rest of his life.

After brushing his teeth, he made his way out to the living room, and he saw Dean, dressed in just a pair of boxers, standing in the kitchen with his phone to his ear, apparently listening to a voicemail. Cas resisted the urge to take advantage of both of their barely clothed situations, slipping up behind him and wrapped his arms around the larger man's waist, nuzzling his head down into the crook of Dean's shoulder and neck as Dean flipped his phone closed as the voicemail concluded.

"It's Crowley," he informed Cas. "He wants all of us to come to the theater, pronto. Didn't say what it was, but the meeting starts in an hour so we'll be getting going after breakfast." He spun Cas around and pulled him into a languid kiss, which Castiel returned tenderly.

"Mm, and what is breakfast, babe?"

Dean chuckled. "You didn't see the platter?" He gestured over to the platter on the kitchen counter, which contained a steaming pile of french toast.

Castiel literally felt his mouth water. "Oh my God, just when I thought I couldn't possibly love you any more." He snatched the platter off the counter, bringing it to the table as Dean grabbed the syrup from the cabinet and the milk from the fridge, along with two glasses. When the table was set, the two sat next to each other and dug in, and the platter was gone in a few short minutes.

Afterwards, they cleaned up as fast as they could, and went back into the bedroom to get dressed. Dean turned around once they got inside, and seemingly noticed what Cas was wearing for the first time.

"Are those my pajama pants?" he asked, and Cas felt his stomach plummet.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked before I put them on, I'll take them home and wash them and mmf!" Dean had cut Castiel's worried rambling off with a heated kiss, and he felt the smaller man come undone underneath him, resulting in Dean nearly holding him up with the hands locked around his waist as Cas felt his breath taken away.

Pulling away just the slightest, Dean stared into Castiel's piercing blue eyes. "I don't mind in the least bit. You look hot in my clothes." He punctuated this with another kiss. "You can wear them whenever you want." Another kiss. "I like it." Another kiss, and then Dean leaned in to whisper in Castiel's ear with hot breath. "It turns me on."

Castiel's knees went weak, and he let out a keening moan when Dean's lips found their way to a certain spot just under Cas's left ear which he nipped and sucked at, driving him crazy with sensations.

"D-Dean," he said, attempting calmness, but his voice cracked a little as he felt something growing in those pajama pants he was wearing. "W-we have to go meet Crowley..."

Dean nodded. "Uh huh..." he replied lazily, before continuing his ministrations and licking the spot near Cas's collarbone where the bite mark had never faded due to repeated attempts to keep it there.

"Dean, come onnn," Cas whined, nearly buckling under the need for the pleasure Dean was providing. Feebly attempting to push him away, Dean pushed him over and onto the bed, and Cas gave in, deciding that Crowley could wait a few extra minutes.

"Okay, let's go," Dean said cheerily, tossing Cas a pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt that would probably be too big on him.

Cas made a whining noise in his throat. "What, now you want to leave right when I give in to you?"

Dean winked. "I like to keep 'em wanting more, baby."

Cas raised an eyebrow. "Them?"

Dean coughed awkwardly. "Uh, ahem... You. You know what I mean." The look that Cas gave him bordered on Sam Winchester Bitchface material, before he stuck out his tongue and slipped on the clothes that Dean had tossed him.

"I know, I'm just yanking your chain," Cas told him cheekily. "You seriously like me in your clothes that much that you'll have me wear them to a cast and crew meeting when I have clothes of my own I can change into?"

Dean just looked at him. "I meant what I said. It turns me on." Cas simply shrugged and finished dressing, enjoying the hooded gaze he received as he walked over to Dean, tracing a hand down Dean's chest before skimming right past him and out the door.

"Well, we better not be late then!" Cas called as he continued out into the living room.

"Tease..." Dean mumbled before following. Oh well, he deserved a taste of his own medicine.

The walk to the theater was relatively uneventful, considering that they didn't even have time to stop at Jo's Starbucks in order to make it to the theater at Crowley's set time.

They still had no idea what was in store for them as they walked into the theater. The entire cast, crew, and pit were gathered, all sitting in the auditorium seats facing Crowley who was on the stage. Dean and Castiel sat in the back behind Sam and Gabriel who were seated together.

Apparently they were the last to arrive, because Crowley started speaking as soon as they were seated. "Okay everybody, so I brought you here today because Michael had something that he wanted to tell you. But first I would like to say how very proud I am of each and every one of you for putting on an amazing show the other night. Anyway, Michael?"

He gestured to the stage left wing, and Michael walked onto the stage. "Alright people, so the benefit performance was pretty much flawless. Coming from someone like me, that says a lot. I talked to a few key people who saw the show, and... Well, I don't even know if this has ever happened before, but it was the general consensus that the benefit show should be treated as a workshop and that the show should remain with the same cast, crew, and pit, and with a few minor changes under the investors' guidance, should be brought to Broadway in six weeks. Which means, you're all going to be in a Broadway show. Starting now." He smiled hugely.

The deafening roar of cheering, applause, laughter, and joyous sobbing that exploded from the people in the show sitting in the audience was immediate and lasted for a very long time. Dean grabbed Castiel, who looked at him, grinning from ear to ear with tears in his eyes, before Dean crushed their lips together in a passionate kiss. He knew this was Castiel's lifelong dream, and he was just as happy that it was finally being realized. Opening his eyes for a brief second, he saw that Sam and Gabriel were also sharing a passionate money, and he raised an eyebrow at the borderline cannibalistic make out session, before returning his attentions to his treasured boyfriend.

Cas pulled away, and with a few years falling down his face, he smiled so brightly that Dean grabbed him and literally swept him off his feet. Others in their vicinity cheered them on during their own celebrations with friends, and Cas just smiled hugely in Dean's arms. All of his dreams were coming true right before his eyes, finally, after everything he'd been through. Now, it was all worth it.

* * *

The blond man hid behind the brim of a fedora and the cloth of an argyle-printed scarf - eccentric enough to put off an observer, but not eccentric enough to draw attention in an of themselves. He needed this, considering where he was.

The bell chimed at the door, and Dean Winchester, his brother Sam, Castiel's cousin Gabriel, and the Castiel himself almost tumbled through the door.

You see, he had finally made his way up to watching Castiel's favorite Starbucks.

There was Joanna Beth Harvelle, Castiel's best friend and the barista on shift. She took their orders and fulfilled them a hair more quickly than she had for previous customers, but she seemed professional enough, until...

"Jo, guess what?" Castiel said, practically quivering. The blond man's ears pricked up at that. For all that Castiel seemed insufferably happy, this was obviously a new development.

"What is it?" the girl asked, leaning over the the counter.

Castiel's smile widened and then went shy. "Well," he started, cheeks pinkening, "Dean... Dean asked me to move in with him!"

The blond man put down his coffee - American tea was always shit anyway - and gripped the edge of his table, seeing red. There was 'Castiel, happy and seemingly completely over Balthazar,' and then there was this.

This, he could not stand.

Castiel continued, and he forced himself to listen. "My lease is up at the end of the month, so that's when I'm moving in."

"But that's not all," Dean interjected. He was smiling broadly, almost a shit-eating grin.

Castiel's smile broadened again, almost to face-splitting proportions. "That's right, it isn't. Oh God, Jo, you aren't going to believe this, honest."

Jo straightened up, putting a hand on her hip. "Try me."

"WE'RE GOING BROADWAY!" Castiel cried out - (God, had he ever seen Castiel this happy?) - positively shaking with suppressed energy.

The blond man clenched his jaw to keep from giving himself away.

"OH MY GOD, CAS!" Jo shrieked, disturbing a few patrons, who glared at her before turning back to their coffees and assorted diversions.

Dean wrapped his arms tighter around Castiel, almost cradling him against his chest as Castiel continued: "We just found out this morning that Michael got investors. We have about six weeks to get ready, but oh my God, Jo, I can hardly believe this is happening!"

Neither could the blond man. He would need to consult his network for confirmation, though it seemed unlikely that Castiel would lie about achieving one of his dreams.

He rose from his chair, not needing to hear any more - knowing that Castiel was going to be moving left him with some new opportunities he needed to consider, and possibilities he needed to plan for before he could achieve his own goal. It may have seemed to Castiel that all of his dreams were coming true, but oh, how wrong he was, because soon, very soon, that would all change.

He passed into the chill Manhattan air, leaving that Starbucks as though he had never been there at all.


	13. One Thing

**Chapter Thirteen: One Thing**

Damn him and his attention to detail, the blonde man thought as he slid into the faded pair of thrift-store jeans. He was essentially flying blind, though, under the radar as he was.

He needed access – for what he was planning, he needed to get into that apartment.

And he needed more than that – he needed to seem like he belonged in the building. That meant infiltration, which meant a cover story, which meant these ragged, once-sturdy work jeans and the untucked collared shirt over a white tee shirt. He hoped he wasn't overdoing it.

He hailed a cab that dropped him off at Dean Winchester's apartment building. He knew that Dean and Castiel were both at a rehearsal at this time every weekday – he'd waited a long week into the pre-Broadway rehearsals before he made this particular move, and only a day or so before Castiel was due to move in with Dean – and so he had nothing to worry about but the building manager, who was by all reports a good woman and single mother by the name of Lisa Braeden.

He got out of his cab and entered the building, schooling his gait into something approaching the swagger he'd seen Dean using on several occasions previously.

He found the door to the building manager's office, twitching his face into a half-smile as he knocked on the door.

Ms. Braeden opened it, brow furrowing when she didn't recognize him.

"Hi," she said, "What can I do for you?"

Now, to weave the deception.

Placing a hand on his hip, he smiled and said, "My cousin, Dean, lives in this buildin'. I was wonderin' which room it was – I wanna plan him a surprise birthday party in a coupla weeks. Came out from Kansas t' do it when I heard about his'n'his boyfriend's big break."

Her smile was bright, and he smirked inwardly at the implication. "That's very sweet of you, Mr…?"

"Walker, Gordon Walker. Dean's m'cousin on our mommas' sides," he drawled. "Hain't seen him since he an' Sammy left fir the big city years ago."

Ms. Braeden smile turned soft. "Well, I can't see why I shouldn't give you the apartment number." She looked him up and down, though, and he knew that look, even if 'Gordon Walker' didn't. That was a city girl eying up something she wanted. "My name's Lisa Braeden."

"Well, Miss Braeden, it was nice t'meetcha," he said, quirking up one side of his mouth in a roguish smirk. This was good – more than good. He could ensure future access to the building this way.

Ah, the sacrifices he made in the name of vengeance.

Ms. Braeden pulled tore the corner off of a sheet of paper and scribbled Dean's apartment number down on it, as well as her own phone number, and handed it to him.

He smiled. This was just going to keep getting better, wasn't it?

"Hey, you're new to the city, right?" she said, her voice stopping him before he could walk out of her office.

"Yeah," he said.

She smiled, blushing prettily. "I was thinking you could call me if you want a tour guide, or we could get a coffee or something."

"That'd be real nice, Miss Braeden."

"Please, call me Lisa," she said, her blush deepening a little.

He leaned in a little closer, just into her personal space. "Whatever ya want, Lisa," he murmured, taking her hand and pressing a gentle, teasing kiss to the back of it. He pulled back and smiled at her again, saying, "I'll be sure t'drop ya a line in a coupla days, arright?"

"All right," she said, her smile already a little day-dreaming as he turned and walked out.

He didn't leave the building, not yet, but instead headed for the elevator. He glanced at the piece of paper Lisa Braeden had given him and hit the appropriate floor number.

Dean's apartment was toward the end of the hall, and he moved quick – catlike, almost – toward the door, pulling his bug out of his pocket. This was going to be an interesting drop to make, he decided, but the bug was strong enough that he'd be able to hear all the goings-on in that apartment if he even so much as put it along the inside of the doorjamb.

He had a better idea, though.

The lock on the door was a loose one, and he flicked it open with a skillful turn of a bobby pin and the slide of a thick credit card, sneaking in as though it didn't matter he didn't belong.

He left the device in the center of the apartment, slipping it to stick on the underside of the kitchen table. After a moment, he looked around, then murmured to himself, happy to slip out of that annoying southern drawl. "That could not have been any easier," he said, in his original British accent. Then he left, quick and quiet as he'd come, taking the back stairs and out into a dirty alley. He made a quick change, turning the collared shirt inside out so it looked more like something he would actually wear, and pulled on another scarf out from the other back pocket of those jeans.

This would go well. It had to.

* * *

"Holy crap, Dean, he has a lot of shit," Sam sputtered as he lugged a huge, heavy box into Dean's apartment, dropping it on the floor in the living room in relief.

"Yeah, yeah, you're the abnormally huge one of the bunch so you get all the heavy boxes," Jo told him, entering with a much smaller, lighter box, placing it on the floor next to the one Sam had dropped. "Get over it," she joked, slapping him on the shoulder.

Dean emerged from the bedroom, where he had been organizing various things of Cas's all around the room. Gabriel had taken Cas for a day out, 'just the cousins' he had told him, as a diversion so that Dean could move his things over to Dean's apartment along with Sam and Jo. Dean utilized his spare key, and since Cas had packed all of his stuff into boxes already, they brought whatever they could over, including a few pieces of his furniture. Dean had opened a storage locker so that he could move a few pieces of his own furniture into storage to make room for Cas's stuff, and to hold whatever didn't fit in. Sam was playing the role of interior designer, directing what should go where to make the room look nice and integrated with both Dean and Cas's stuff, as well as doing all the heavy lifting.

So far the apartment was looking great. Dean had thrown his old couch in storage to make room for Cas's rather comfortable black leather one, accompanying this with two black end tables and a coffee table. A half-size bookcase stood against the wall next to the TV, ready to be filled with Cas's favorite books (that were in the abnormally heavy box Sam was complaining about). Dean had swapped his own bedroom furniture for Castiel's dresser and large mirror, and it added a nice touch to the apartment that wasn't there previously. Photos that Cas had moved from his own furniture into a box were now standing up in various places around the apartment. When the few more boxes they had left were unpacked, it would look as if Cas had been living with Dean for awhile already.

Which was the point, really.

Dean had planned to surprise Cas with this as a congratulations for achieving his dream. They had originally planned to move everything in together the next weekend, so Dean was taking a risk in doing everything without him, but he figured the instant gratification would be a nice surprise.

"Dean, I'm so not shelving all these books by myself," Sam whined, opening the box on the floor.

Jo chuckled. "Yes, Yeti, you are," she joked. "I'm in charge of getting all of his clothes organized. Because if either one of you did it, it would be a disaster waiting to happen. Plus, Dean's organizing everything else around here, so the books are your job. And, shelf them in alphabetical order." With the last sentence, she winked, and Sam shot her bitch face number eleven, 'ugh fine, fuck you,' to which Jo stuck her tongue out teasingly.

By late afternoon, they were completely done. The entire apartment was immaculately clean, and, like Dean had planned, it looked as though Cas had been living there for quite some time. It looked like a completely different apartment with all the swapping of furniture and rearranging the layout. Thanking Sam and Jo thoroughly, Dean ushered them out the door to wait for Cas's return.

As soon as they were gone, Dean rushed around the apartment, rearranging certain things and making sure the apartment was in tip top shape for Cas's return. About a half hour after Sam and Jo had left, he received a text from Gabriel saying that they were on their way, and five minutes later, another text saying that Gabe had left Cas at the entrance to the apartment building. As soon as Dean got the second text, he grabbed a small box off the coffee table and bolted out the door, sprinting down the stairs to meet Cas, who stood in the lobby waiting for the elevator.

"Cas!" Dean called, running over to him. Cas turned towards him, seemingly confused as to why Dean was coming down to meet him, but did not at all object when Dean pulled him into a sweeping kiss. Cas smiled around Dean's mouth, and through just that simple action, Dean felt his heart warm.

"You're certainly excited about something," Cas observed, smiling as Dean stood him back upright. Looking at the box in Dean's hand, he tilted his head curiously.

"I have a surprise for you," Dean told him. "Come with me." Dean started toward the mail room, which served as a post office box room for the inhabitants of the apartment building. Approaching the box for room 304, Dean glanced at the nameplate on the front before grinning. Everything was the way it had to be.

"What's the surprise?" Cas asked, tilting his head again. "Is it in your mail?"

Dean was starting to grow attached to that head tilt. He found it absolutely adorable. "No, Cas. Look at the mailbox for my room. The nameplate in the front."

Cas bent closer to see the shiny new metal plate, engraved in silver letters with, "Dean Winchester & Castiel Novak". After reading it, Dean saw Cas freeze a little bit, and he started to panic before Cas straightened up and turned to him with a gigantic smile on his face. "Dean, it's… it's amazing. Really."

"That's not everything," Dean told him, opening the box and presenting it to Cas. Inside was a long silver rope-chain necklace with a small keychain on it. "The two keys are for the mailbox and the apartment," Dean told him, and Cas wordlessly turned around for Dean to slip the necklace around his neck. It was long enough that Cas would be able to slip it over his head to use the keys and then slip it back on. "So do you like it, Cas?"

Cas seemed unable to speak, so he settled for spinning around and throwing his arms around Dean's neck. Dean chuckled a little bit, returning the embrace, and Cas nuzzled his head into Dean's shoulder. "I love it," he murmured. "I'm beyond words. That's how much I love it. Thank you."

Dean decided to keep the last part of the surprise a secret until Cas could see it for himself. The two walked to the elevator and up to the third floor, and when they stopped in front of Dean's room, Cas looked up at him expectantly.

Dean grinned. "Well, the key's around your neck now, so you might as well use it." He finished it up with a wink, and when Cas eagerly slipped the necklace off his head and put the key in the doorknob, Dean stopped him. "Just... if you don't like it, we can change it around," Dean told him. He figured he would make no sense until Cas actually saw what he did with the place, and the confusion in Cas's eyes reflected that.

"If I don't like what?" Cas asked. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Dean had to admit, Cas was incredibly perceptive. "Just open the door, Cas," he told him encouragingly, and Cas did exactly that, pushing it open, flicking on the lights and stepping inside before stopping in his tracks.

Castiel stood there, stunned, for quite a few moments before slowly making his way into the living room. He looked around, seeing some of his furniture, his sentimental photos and other things placed around the room along with Dean's. He walked through the apartment slowly, seemingly taking in every single aspect of the new layout, noting where all of his things had been moved. When he reached the bedroom and saw his dresser and mirror, he pulled out the drawers and saw all of his clothes neatly folded up, with the rest hanging in the closet. Finally, he turned toward Dean speechlessly, tears at the corners of his eyes.

"I... I don't know what to say," Cas said, starting to choke up. "This is the nicest thing anybody has ever done for me. It looks like we've been living together for years. Dean... it's amazing." He ran into Dean's arms, and Dean bent down to pull him into a long, emotional kiss. It was one of those kisses where everything the two were feeling poured out all at once. It wasn't heated, or even too passionate, it was soft and sweet and full.

After a few moments, they pulled away, and Dean held the sides of Cas's face and looked into his eyes. "Gabriel was a distraction. Sam and Jo came over while you guys were out all day and helped me move your stuff. Most if not all of your stuff is here, and whatever stuff of mine I had to move I put in storage. So this is all us. As long as you want it."

"Of course I want it, Dean, it's amazing," Cas replied, kissing him again. "God, Dean, I don't know what it is about you. There's something about you… something that nobody else has. This one thing that just pulls me in, and I don't even know what it is. But I'm not complaining."

Dean smiled. "I feel the same way about you. You're like gravity, babe."

Cas smiled at Dean's response, then suddenly glanced over at the bed as though it caught his attention, noting that the mattress seemed a bit higher than usual. "Is... is that a new mattress?"

Dean grinned. "Yeah, I figured that since we were using all of our stuff combined, something might as well be new. Plus, you didn't say it, but I could tell you didn't like my old mattress that much."

Cas tilted his head. "And what makes you say that?"

Dean laughed. "It was lumpy and springy and terrible. Just sit on this one, watch."

Cas obliged, walking over to the edge of the bed and sitting down. Dean saw him sink in to the memory foam, and the look that came across Cas's face made him burst out laughing as Cas moaned in ecstasy and threw himself back on the bed, laying spread like a starfish. "Holy shit this is so fucking comfortable!" he exclaimed, and Dean chuckled before joining him.

"By the way, Cas, lift up the comforter..." Dean told him, and Cas reached over to the edge of the bed and flipped up the corner of the comforter before staring in disbelief.

"Jesus Christ, Dean, are those silk sheets?" he asked, running a hand over the soft, deep blue fabric.

"I couldn't resist," Dean admitted. "I saw the color in the store and it just popped out. It reminded me of your eyes so I just had to get them."

Cas looked at Dean, wordless, before crawling over to him and pulling him into a much more heated kiss than the previous one. "I love them. It's amazing. It's... it's all amazing. Thank you so much, Dean."

Dean winked at him. "Don't worry about it. Now, what do you say we break in this new bed...?" He gestured at the mattress and smiled at the mischievous grin that came across his boyfriend's face. "After all, these silk sheets were just made to get dirty..."

He found himself unable to say any more than that when Castiel tackled him, silencing him with a rough, hard, oh so hot kiss.

* * *

The blonde man sat in his hotel room, turning on the device.

"Now, what do you say we break in this new bed?" came Dean's voice, rushed and a little wicked. "After all, these silk sheets were just made to get dirty."

He let his lip curl in distaste, but didn't turn it off. After all, pillow talk could be quite enlightening, and he'd hate to miss that. So he simply let it run – It wasn't as though any of it were anything he hadn't heard before.

Besides, every panting gasp or moan they made was a reminder that their happiness wouldn't last. The blond man had covered his bases and covered them well.

So he stood, keeping half an attentive ear on the noises they were making, and got himself another glass of wine. They would be at this for a while, after all, and he was far from a saint - anyone with patience short of one would need fine alcohol to get through this.

He downed the first glass in three long pulls, reminding himself that it would only be a little while until his vengeance could be complete.


	14. I Will Prevail

**Chapter Fourteen: I Will Prevail**

The blond man worked Lisa Braeden's leg over his hip, his tongue deep in her mouth. He had to admit that she was a good lay, if not from the same stock as his usual type, and this was one of the better parts of this whole infiltration - a perk, if you will.

And considering that he was going to finally get what he wanted, he might as well take advantage of that perk one last time, right?

He pressed her down on her desk and fucked her, hard, until she was strangling her moans on the arm of her pretty jacket, and he came, short sharp jerks as clinical as anything. He pulled out of her and tossed the condom almost before he was finished softening, tucking himself back in and schooling his mouth into that easy smile that was all Gordon Walker and nothing of himself.

"Are we going to see each other again before you go back out West?" she asked, breathless, pulling her skirt back down over her hips as she stood on shaky legs.

"I don't think so, sweetheart," he drawled.

After all, when he was done with what he was going to do, well, he and the NYPD wouldn't be on the friendliest of terms. He would be on a plane to France in no more than six hours, needing only the next three to manage what he had planned.

She pouted, holding up the key to Dean's apartment. "I should keep this hostage, then."

"Aww, please? I just want ta get things set up for when they get back." He gave her Gordon Walker's best puppy-dog eyes.

"Well, all right," she said, her smile belying her exasperated sigh. "But call me the next time you're in Manhattan, okay, Gordon?"

"Of course, ma'am. I'll hunt ya down if I'm ever back in these parts."

She passed him the key. "Good," she said, nodding firmly.

He smiled back, and this time it wasn't all artifice. He leaned in and kissed her quickly before turning and exiting her office, making for the elevator, his bag - of supplies, he'd told Ms. Braeden, and it wasn't exactly a lie. Inside, he fiddled with the key, tossing it up in the air and catching him.

Very close now, to where everything would fall right into place, and Castiel Novak would lose everything.

He couldn't keep the smile off his face as he walked down the hallway, fitting the key into the lock when he reached the door, and opened it, slipping inside. He tossed the key onto the kitchen table, the first clue dear Castiel would receive that he was not alone in the apartment, and settled onto the couch in the living room. Situated as it was, Castiel would not be able to see his face when he walked into the room, but he knew he would be recognized.

Now, he simply had to wait.

* * *

About a week had passed since Dean and Cas were officially integrated into Dean's apartment together, and rehearsals for the new Broadway version of their show were in full swing. A lot of changes needed to be made, to appease the investors and new producers besides Michael, and that meant that both Castiel and Dean needed to be there nearly all the time. The job was paying a lot more now, seeing as it was a Broadway production, and they were making enough to be more than comfortable, but the long work hours were starting to wear down on them. Plus, they were in an entirely new theater that was much farther from the apartment, so it was a longer walk there and back every day.

One particular morning, Cas woke up to his cell phone alarm and felt as though he hadn't slept. He sighed, rolling out of Dean's arms on the comfortable bed and sitting up on the edge.

"Mm… Cas?" Dean hadn't woken when Cas turned off his cell phone alarm, but the disturbance caused by Cas leaving his arms and sitting up had apparently been enough to rouse him. "You okay, baby?"

Cas simply groaned. "I feel like I haven't slept in a month. These rehearsals are killing me." He rubbed his sore leg. "The choreography is ten times harder than it was before, but that's Broadway level for you. Still, the hours are just… tiring."

Dean sat up, pulling himself to the edge of the bed and sitting up behind Cas, pulling the smaller man backwards into his arms. "I know, it's crazy. We have to rebuild all of the sets, too, and the location isn't exactly convenient." He placed a gentle, languid kiss on Cas's neck, and the other man leaned into the touch.

Cas sighed once more. "At least cast is getting out early tonight. I'd wait around for you, but I think I'm gonna come home and catch up on some sleep instead."

Dean smiled. "Of course, babe. I wouldn't want to keep you up and about. You're freaking exhausted."

Castiel looked his boyfriend in the eyes. "You're the most perfect boyfriend ever, by the way," he told Dean, who winked, pulling him into a soft, gentle kiss.

"Far from it, Cas, but hey, as long as you think so," Dean replied.

Cas's phone buzzed once more, and he groaned yet again as he realized it was time to leave for rehearsal. "We'll have to get breakfast on the way or something."

Dean nodded, and the two quickly dressed and left the apartment, headed for the theater. They stopped briefly at Jo's Starbucks, where she had their regulars waiting for them (the past few weeks had been very hectic on their way to work so she always tried to have it ready for them to grab and leave) and Dean swiped his card to pay for them, and they left. They barely made it on time, and both were thrown into the hard day's work, Cas right onto the stage and into dance rehearsal, and Dean into the crew room to work on the sets.

It seemed to drag on forever. By the end of rehearsal, Cas's every muscle ached beyond belief, and by the time Crowley dismissed the cast so that he could work on new pit cues and work with stagecrew, he was more than grateful to give Dean a passing kiss and make his way out the door and head back toward the apartment.

Cas took the walk home slowly - he was exhausted, after all - and enjoyed the way New York was glistening in the winter frost. It was getting dark earlier and earlier now, and Christmas was only a few weeks out, so the city was already alight with neon and fairy lights, sparkling off the pavements and windows. This was how Castiel liked the city best, and found it its most beautiful.

He stopped in at Jo's Starbucks, smiling at the barista who had this shift. It wasn't Jo, but this girl was nice enough, her name tag proclaiming her Amy - Pond was scribbled underneath, and Cas couldn't help but wonder what that was a reference to - as she made his coffee, quick and efficient.

"Thank you," he said.

She smiled. "Jo talks about you to anyone who'll listen. Makes everybody jealous, even though she doesn't mean to. I mean, not all of us have a best friend who's a Broadway lead, after all."

Cas laughed, putting an extra dollar in the tip jar, and continued toward home.

As the sun settled out of sight, though, he felt something turn dark in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't seen - or rather, seen what looked like Balthazar - in almost a week, and despite the fact that it should make him feel better, he couldn't help but feel vulnerable here in the dark.

He shook his head, hunching his shoulders, and walked faster. The sooner he got home, the sooner this feeling would go away, and he could go catch some sleep before Dean got home in an hour or two.

"Oh!" he gasped, tripping over the curb, lost as he'd been in his thoughts. He pulled the coat Dean had given him tighter around himself and shivered. Even under all of the Christmas lights and everything, he couldn't shake this pervasive feeling of wrongness, and it frightened him.

Eventually - it seemed like forever, every detail his eyes could make out in the dark standing out almost too sharply - he made it to Dean's building.

He smiled in passing at Dean's building manager, Lisa, and made for the elevator, wanting nothing more than to be safe in bed, waiting for Dean. Even though Dean had made good on the idea of dirtying the silk sheets, the flannel ones that had replaced them until they could find a good, discreet dry cleaner were warm and soft - just what he needed right now.

The hallway by now was as familiar as his old apartment building's had been, and he hardly had to even think about which lock his key fit into. He opened the door, sighing in relief. He hung up the keychain Dean had given him on a peg by the door, yawning.

Time for bed, he decided, and headed for the bedroom. He slid out of the trench coat and changed into another t-shirt and pajama pants, his phone going into its charger on the dresser.

There was a noise, though, that made him jump. It was a clattering sound from the kitchen, and he felt his heart rate speed up as he turned around, putting his toothbrush back in its holder, and moved back toward the kitchen.

There was nothing there, nothing changed from when he and Dean had left this morning. The table was clear of anything that could have fallen, and he didn't see anything out of place.

He shrugged. Maybe it was the apartment below them.

He turned back toward the hallway and his heart stopped dead in his chest for a minute. Settled in the couch in the living room, facing away from him, was a mop of pale blond hair, almost silver in the dark.

It couldn't be. He was losing it, he had to be losing his mind.

He closed his eyes tightly and counted to five, trying to calm down, but when he looked again, that blond head of hair had turned around and stood up, leaning against the door jamb.

"Balthazar?" he said, his voice cracking the word in half. "Is that really you?"

The light flipped on, and Castiel couldn't help but close his eyes against the glare. When he opened them again, it wasn't Balthazar standing inches from his face.

"No," Raphael said, swinging a metal bar toward Cas's head.

The world went black.


	15. Russian Roulette

**Chapter Fifteen: Russian Roulette**

Cas woke up woozy, not sure exactly what was happening, but he realized quickly enough that he was upright, tied to his own kitchen chair. He didn't even bother opening his eyes as the memory came rushing back, just murmured, "Oh God..."

"So you're awake already," came Raphael's voice, smooth as honey and threatening as vinegar. "Good."

Castiel opened his eyes to find the lights on, and Raphael sitting a few feet away in another chair, fingers laced around one knee. He and Balthazar had always looked frighteningly alike, at least from a distance, and Castiel realized in that moment that every time he'd thought he was seeing Balthazar, it was really Raphael.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, Castiel?" Raphael said.

"Since what? Since you got Balthazar off scot-free?" He couldn't help but be bitter about that, even years later.

At the sound of Balthazar's name, a shadow crossed over Raphael's face and stayed there, and Castiel wondered if he'd said something terribly, terribly dangerous. He was, after all, trapped. Even if he somehow got himself untied, Raphael still stood between him and the door.

His stomach dropped as it occurred to him that he was honest-to-God in grave danger.

Raphael grinned at him, a sick twist of his lips to put Hannibal Lecter to shame, but there was something hollow in his eyes that Cas couldn't remember ever having seen before.

"What happened to you?" he asked, softly.

Raphael's expression darkened so much that it sent chills down Castiel's spine. The grin froze, a grotesque mockery, and Raphael shot to his feet, taking the three strides that separated them with a predator's ease. He fisted his hand in the front of Castiel's shirt and pulled, tipping the chair forward on its front legs.

"What happened to me?" Raphael asked, his voice dangerously quiet now. "You want to know what happened to  _me_?"

"Yes?" Castiel asked, not sure if that was how Raphael wanted him to answer.

Raphael seemed to be regaining control of himself now, and he let go of Cas, the chair rocking back and forth on its feet a few times before settling, Cas breathless from fear of falling over. Raphael sat back down in his own chair, leaning forward elbows-to-knees and staring at Castiel, unblinking eyes still hooded with that hollowness Cas didn't understand.

"You want to know what happened to me?" Raphael asked again, and there was tightness in his voice that Castiel couldn't place. "Ask me what happened to my brother, Castiel."

Castiel's stomach dropped. "Oh God," he whispered.

"Ask. Me." Raphael growled. "Ask me what happened to our dear vicious Balthazar, Castiel."

Castiel opened his mouth, struggling for the words. "What -"

Raphael moved his hand in a cutting gesture. "Wait, I have something better than that." He reached into his pocket and pulled something out of it, tossing it across the table. "Ask me why I have  _this_."

 _This_  was a gold chain exactly like the one Castiel had kept in a box in the bottom drawer of his dresser.  _This_  was the match to it, the mate to the gift Balthazar had given him so long ago, before everything about their relationship went to Hell and never came back.

Balthazar had never stopped wearing it, even through the trial. Even after, when Balthazar had begged him one last time to take him back, that chain had still been there, a reminder of what they had been.

"Oh my God," Castiel said softly, unable to think about the implication Raphael was making.

"Ask me about that chain, Castiel. Ask me why I have it, why Balthazar isn't wearing it." Raphael's voice was sick-sweet, a horrorshow voice if ever there were one.

"Where's Balthazar?" Cas asked instead, refusing to look at the chain again.

Raphael laughed, the sound as hollow as his eyes, and duller. "Do you really want to know, Castiel? Do you really even care?"

"Of course I care, Raphael," Cas murmured, stung by the empty-eyed insult. "What happened between your brother and I… it hurt, but never try and tell me I don't care. If he's been hurt - if that's why you're here - tell him I'm sorry. Not for leaving, but for it hurting him."

"Tell that to him, then," Raphael said, standing again.

"He's here?" Cas asked, heart swooping into his throat - if Balthazar was here, then maybe Castiel could reason with him, and this could all be settled.

Raphael said nothing, his mouth still cut into that sick parody of a smile, and left the room.

He came back with an urn.

Castiel felt bile rising up in his throat, now. It couldn't be - it couldn't -

"See this, Castiel?" Raphael said, placing the urn on the table next to the chain, trailing his fingers almost lovingly around the edge of the sealed cap of it. "This is all that's left of him, you know."

"No - he - how?"

Raphael shook his head as if he hadn't even heard Cas's question. "You should've seen him before they burned him up, Castiel. They called me in to make sure it was him," he said, the sick smile slipping for a moment into haunted blankness before he met Castiel's eyes again.

"He didn't have a face anymore."

He pulled a picture out of his jacket pocket and held it up in front of Castiel's face. Cas barely had enough time to look away before he vomited.

"You know how they found him?" Raphael murmured, tangling a hand in Castiel's hair and wrenching his head back to look at the crime-scene photo again, yanking harder when Castiel tried to close his eyes against the image. "With a sawed-off twelve-gauge shotgun  _still in his hand_."

"He - he killed himself?" Castiel asked, his voice high-pitched as he glanced at the urn.

He couldn't imagine Balthazar doing such a thing - Balthazar, who had always seemed like he had so much he lived for, who had brought Castiel out of his shell… Castiel would always be grateful for that, despite the way things had ended.

Raphael nodded and set the photo down, finally. "He did. He left a video for a suicide note, too."

"Please don't -" Cas begged as Raphael walked toward the living room.

"Why? It's all about you - it was always all about you, Cassie."

The venom in the nickname brought more bile with it, and Cas whimpered, dry-retching a few more times, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. Only Balthazar had ever had the balls to call him Cassie, and it had been one of their little things, like the chains, memories of good times.

He didn't look as Raphael played the recording, but it didn't make it any easier.

 _"Raphael, I'm sorry about this, but it has to happen. I can't do this anymore. There's nothing I want more than to have him back, and you know it as well as I do. But I can't fix myself, can't make the anger go away and dammit to bloody hell, I don't want to hurt him again. And if I can't fix whatever's wrong with me, there's no reason to stick around. I'm sorry, Raph, I really am. But I need this. If I can't have him, this is what I want. Don't hate me for it - and please don't hate him either. It's not his fault. If you see him again, tell him I'm sorry. Tell him I wish I could've been a better man. Tell him I don't blame him for leaving me or pressing charges because I deserved it, damnit, more than anything else in my life. And when you… when you watch this, don't do anything rash. Just, lay me to rest and get on with everything else."_  There was a long pause, and Castiel sobbed, head hanging.  _"I guess this is goodbye, Raphael. I really am sorry, but… I loved him. I do, still, and that's not going away. So I'm going to have to go away instead. Tell mum I love you all and that I'm sorry, will you? Because I do, and I am."_

The recording ended there, and Castiel wept, his mind reeling.

Balthazar had done this, had killed himself, because he'd still loved him.

"When?" he asked, finally meeting Raphael's eyes.

"Right before you landed this lovely role of yours," Raphael said, clicking the tablet off. "Years, Castiel, he spent in therapy trying to make himself good enough for  _you_ , searching for a way out simply because it meant he could have you again."

Cas choked on his tears. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Damn straight you should be sorry, Castiel!" Raphael said, slamming his hand. "But I don't think you understand. After all, you were busy  _moving on_ , he was going through rounds and rounds of therapy, trying to make himself  _worthy_. All for it to fail and for me to lose him."

Raphael's voice trailed into a furious shaking whisper at the end of it.

"I - if I'd known -" Castiel broke off, uselessly. It wasn't as though he could've known, anyway, and if he'd known? Who knew what would've happened.

"You're the only one who could have saved him," Raphael responded, voice dangerously soft. "He would have done anything for even the ghost of a hope of having you again. I read his therapist's notes during the investigation, and it was you, always you."

"Why are you here?" Castiel asked, twisting against his bonds, not understanding what Raphael meant by having him here like this. "You didn't have to do this just to tell me he was gone, Raphael."

"You have to understand," Raphael responded, his eyes slipping shut as a new smile crossed his face, this one swifter and fiercer, as if something in Raphael had risen up to combat the emptiness that had consumed him during this whole encounter. "I needed to get you alone, and, well, you've always got that barista or your boyfriend around."

"Well, you've - you've said what you needed to say, right?" Castiel felt fear bubbling up inside him, his heart sinking at Raphael's expression. "You don't have to keep me tied up like this - Dean's going to be home soon, and this'll be hard enough to explain without me tied up, wouldn't it?"

Raphael made a noise halfway between disgust and amusement and left the room again.

Castiel took a deep breath and worked at the ropes around his ankles; if he could get those untied he could at least stand up, maybe use the chair to knock Raphael down when he came back if the man couldn't be reasoned with. The ropes chafed at his ankles, and he had a feeling he'd be bleeding by the time he could slip his feet through the loops and get them back on solid ground, but it was the only shot he had.

Raphael came back with a knife, long and wicked, with serrated teeth; it looked like it belonged in a torture museum, and definitely looked like it could cut through bone if wielded right.

"Oh God," Castiel said, and this time, it might have been a prayer.

* * *

Fifteen minutes before that prayer escaped Castiel in their apartment, Dean was putting the finishing touches on That Damn Door, version nine, and about to move on to another piece of the set when a feminine hand with unfairly long fingernails dug into his upper arm.

It was Pam Barnes, their choreographer and a pretty good friend of Meg's - despite Meg's continued insistence that friends were for stupid people who couldn't stand on their own - and so could sometimes be found on the edges of the crew space during breaks. She was pretty cool, despite the fact that she had more knowledge of New Agey shit than anybody had a right to, and an intuition that verged on a psychic power.

Presently, she looked nervous as she dragged him aside. Woman was crazy strong and had nails like friggin' claws.

"What's up?" he asked.

She looked away, eyes closing briefly as her expression went stony. "You need to get home, hot stuff."

He furrowed his brow at her. "Is this that weird psychic shit again?"

"You could say that," she said quietly. "Just get your pretty ass home. You'll thank me later. I'll run interference with Crowley, and there's no way in hell Meg won't let it go this time. Girl loves the two of you, even if she won't admit it." Pamela spoke quickly and quietly. "Just trust me on this one, all right? Let me go all Obi-Wan on you, just this once, 'cause I got a bad feeling about this."

Dean smiled at her reassuringly. Going home early did sound inviting, and he didn't really believe anything was really on the horizon, so that meant, what, another hour in bed with Cas? That was always a good thing.

"All right, I'll go. See you tomorrow, and don't sleep with my crew," he teased.

Pamela's answering grin was almost half-hearted. "Not all at once, sweetie," she teased back.

He walked away from her, snagging his coat out of his office - yeah, what the fuck, he had an  _office_  now, that took some getting used to - and started walking home.

He couldn't help but wonder, though, as he walked through the dark, what 'bad feeling' had so disturbed Pam that she'd begged him to just go home. He hoped that this wasn't going to be one of those 'I dreamed my flight would crash so I didn't go on my trip and yeah, my flight did crash' type things.

He'd never liked those.

He shook his head almost violently as he made it to the door of the apartment building, letting himself in. The lobby was empty except for Lisa - huh, she'd let the receptionist go home early, that was weird - behind the desk, and he smiled at her, trying to look carefree.

"Hey, Dean," she said, stepping out from behind the desk.

"Hey, Leese. What's up?" Sometimes shit would break down in the building and Lisa would need somebody to patch it back up with duct tape, and she'd always call on Dean for those quick fixes. "Something wrong?"

Her smile broadened, and that was definitely an 'I know something you don't know' kind of smile.

"Oh, nothing," she said, then bit her lip, cheeks tinting pink. "Well… actually… I know you kinda hate surprises. So, um, well… your cousin Gordon came out from Kansas to throw you and Cas a party. He's waiting upstairs in the apartment."

Cousin… Gordon?

"Lisa," Dean said quietly, "I don't have any cousins."

Dean froze as his blood ran ice cold. His stomach turned knots, and he could swear that his pulse was much louder than it had been just a moment ago. Pamela's words echoed in his mind and he started to panic. He walked toward Lisa quicklY. "What does this guy look like?" he asked, taking her by the arm.

"Uh, he's tall. Ice-blue eyes, light blond hair - really attractive?" Lisa responded, and he could see fear bleeding into her expression. "Oh god, I've messed up. I've really fucking messed up, haven't I?"

"Yeah, Leese, you have. Stay down here. If I'm not back in five minutes, call the cops," he said, his voice as commanding as he could make it.

He didn't have time to wait for an elevator, so he sprinted towards the stairs.

"Damn it, Cas, please be alright," he said under his breath.

* * *

The first cut of that knife made Castiel scream - but it was muffled under Raphael's hand. Raphael seemed to know what he was doing as Castiel's eyes rolled back in his head at the continued bite of the knife's teeth, and there was absolutely nothing Castiel could do to stop this.

Except - except - he had to keep a clear head. He'd had a plan before Raphael started to cut into him, and he could stick to that plan, right?

He struggled from the knees down, trying to keep the rest of his body as still as possible. Let Raphael do as he pleased for the moment, no matter how much it hurt, and then, soon, just a little more force and he could get his legs free and then he might be able to do something.

He worked at his bonds, biting back screams as Raphael cut into him again, and then, then, the best thing happened; he got his legs free.

As he slammed himself to his feet, headbutting Raphael in the stomach even as he felt the knife slash sideways, too close to his throat for comfort, a noise like a gunshot made him look toward the door.

It was Dean, who had actually kicked in the door to get in, like he had to be some big damn hero.

Castiel couldn't say he didn't appreciate the gesture.

"Bloody hell," Raphael growled.

"Okay, gimme one reason I shouldn't take a kitchen knife and stab you with it," Dean threatened, stalking toward him. "And while you're at it, you might as well tell me your real name, Gordon."

Castiel shook his head violently as he spun around, using Raphael's distraction to his advantage and slamming the legs of the chair into Raphael's. The other man's knees buckled only briefly - instead, he closed the remaining gap between himself and Dean, lunging with his knife.

Castiel watched as Dean blocked the blow, curling his hand around Raphael's wrist, and then punched him in the face.

"I'm not even sure I want to know who you are, douchebag," Dean said, his fingers tightening around Raphael's wrist as he dragged him forward, pulling him off balance. "But it's clear you got it ou for my boyfriend, and I like knowing people's names before I beat the shit out of 'em for hurtin' people I care about."

Castiel knew that he had to do something - Dean probably had someone downstairs calling the police, but both Balthazar and Raphael had been trained in an obscure form of Wing Chun, and Cas feared what would happen if Raphael unleashed some of that on Dean.

So he worked his feet under himself on the chair, thanking God for that flexibility he'd been endowed with, and pushed up, straining against the ropes that had tied him to the chair. With one Herculean effort, he was free - bleeding and scraped and terrified, but free. He used that freedom to move to the cut, dry drawer and pull one of the steak knives out of the drawer.

That was why he missed what happened next and only heard the short half-grunt, half-keening sound Dean made when Raphael stabbed him. He turned in time to see Dean fall though, and Raphael turned, advancing on him.

"Oh fuck you," Cas said, and leapt into the fray.

After all, Balthazar had shown him some knife-defense techniques more than a few times - though he'd probably be horrified at what Cas wound having to use those techniques for - and he needed that strength right now.

They fought, almost dueling their way out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and into the master bedroom. Cas took slash after slash on the backs of his forearms, remembering that defensive wounds were a damn sight better than whatever Raphael was trying to do to his chest, and Raphael was sporting a long, angry looking cut on his face.

Castiel saw Raphael's eyes flick to an open window, and more specifically to the fire escape outside.

"Oh hell no you don't," Cas growled, rage coiling in his gut. He stabbed at Raphael, but Raphael abandoned using his knife entirely, tucking it into his belt as he wound up and punched Cas in the face.

Cas staggered back, head spinning. By the time he was clear again, Raphael was already gone out the window, presumably to wherever it was attempted murderers go when they escape.

"Oh god, no, no," Cas gasped, running to the window. He couldn't see Raphael from where he was, and he cursed under his breath before the most important fact occurred to him again.

Dean was hurt - Dean was in the kitchen, and Raphael had stabbed him with that ugly knife.

Cas turned back and ran into the kitchen. Dean had pushed himself to his feet, one hand pressed tight over his wound.

"Where is he?" he barked at Cas. "Man, please tell me you got him."

Cas shook his head and went to him. "He got out. Fire escape." His felt his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to take stock of Dean's injury. Dean was bleeding and his face was ghostly pale.

"Son of a bitch," Dean said.

With that, Dean fell, striking his head harshly on the corner of the counter before hitting the ground, passed out, blood pooling around both of his injuries.

Cas dropped to his side, ripping off his shirt and pressing it to Dean's head. The brand new injury was the more serious one, and he did what he could to staunch the bleeding in both areas.

"SOMEBODY HELP!" Cas screamed.


	16. Big White Room

**Chapter Sixteen: Big White Room**

The heart monitor was going, on and on, an infinite reminder that Dean was still alive. That was all that Castiel had to hold on to. Every single heartbeat felt as though it were Cas's own, and he could swear that his pulse had synchronized after awhile.

It had been two days. Two of the longest days in his life spent in Dean's hospital room, after his own injuries were taken care of, of course.

Shortly after he had screamed for help, Dean's neighbor Jody rushed in, having heard the disturbance, and called the cops, telling Cas that Lisa already called in, but now an ambulance was on the way as well. Jody had tried to help Cas with his chest wound, but Cas refused, telling her to keep pressure on the stab wound on Dean's abdomen.

The paramedics arrived, and carefully extracted Dean, as well as Cas, moving them to the nearest hospital. Cas tried to stay with Dean, but he was held back as Dean was taken to surgery to close the wounds and get an emergency transfusion. Cas's own wound was cleaned, numbed, and stitched. It wasn't until the doctor was done that he informed Cas of the peculiar nature of the injury from his assault.

Raphael had cut a B into his chest.

Which meant that Raphael was going to carve Balthazar's entire name onto Castiel's body as his sick form of torture. He probably would have killed him after, too, who knows what the psycho would have done. And he escaped. He was still out there.

Cas had spoken to the cops briefly to tell them everything that happened, and they said they would return after further investigation. As soon as Dean came out of surgery, Cas planted himself at his bedside, sitting vigilant for the rest of the night. When a nurse came to tell him he should go home and get some sleep, he refused to move. The staff of that floor made an exception to Cas when it came to visiting hours, because Dean was still unconscious, and they didn't know when he would wake up.

And he was there for two days. Two worrisome, grueling days, sitting at Dean's bedside, not moving, not eating, begging Dean to wake up, just talking to him. By this point, Cas had grown silent. He sat, staring, unmoving, Dean's hand in his own, waiting and praying for Dean to open his eyes.

The doctor said that Dean's head trauma wasn't fatal, but they didn't know when Dean would wake up. He wasn't technically comatose, but it would take awhile for the healing in his skull and head to progress to the point where he was able to fully regain consciousness. However, they couldn't assure Cas that Dean would wake up anytime soon, but that didn't stop him from staying put. Also, when Dean was stabbed, the knife thankfully missed the vital organs in the area and went clean through muscle tissue, so he would heal up fine in that area.

That didn't change the fact that he was still asleep and wouldn't wake up. Whether or not he would medically heal had nothing to do with when he would regain consciousness. But Castiel was willing to sit there and wait for as long as it took.

Sam had already been around on the night of the incident and the day after to check on Dean, and once he was assured that Dean would be fine, Cas sent him home. He was going steady with Gabriel now, and Cas wanted him to be with his boyfriend for comfort. The whole thing was very jarring for Sam, understandably, and Cas did not in any way want him putting himself through the waiting that he was doing.

Cas wasn't only waiting, though. He blamed himself for everything that happened. He refused to see reason when Jo or Sam tried talking to him about it. He sat at Dean's bedside, wishing he had done things differently just so that Dean hadn't hit his head or even gotten hurt in the first place.

Castiel brought Dean's hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on it. He hadn't spoken to Dean's sleeping form in awhile, but he figured he'd try again. Up until this point he had only told Dean that he wanted him to get better and wake up, but he figured he'd try telling him everything that happened and getting it off his chest. "Dean… if you can hear me, I'm so, so sorry, baby," he began, voice cracking as a tear fell down his cheek. "Raphael was here because of Balthazar, because Balthazar killed himself. He was depressed, Dean, because of me. Because I left him after he hurt me and moved on with my life. But he didn't… he didn't deserve another chance. That's why I know it's really not my fault. Still, Raphael… Raphael said that he spent years trying to get over me, but he never could. I just… I wish I had done something when you came in, something to warn you so that he wouldn't have stabbed you, or that I'd rushed over to you earlier so that you hadn't hit your head. I… Dean, I'm so sorry." He was crying now, tears spilling over his hands, which he had planted his face in after he was done talking.

A hand was placed on his shoulder and he turned around, sniffling, to see Jo standing beside him. "Hey, Cas," she said gently, and he didn't care that she'd heard his confession of guilt. He simply stood up as she pulled him into a much-needed hug. Cas simply cried into her shoulder; he hadn't cried in front of anyone since the whole thing had happened, so this was somewhat of a breakthrough. She simply shushed him and rubbed his back, letting him let it all out. "It's not your fault, Cas. No matter how much you think it is."

"How can you say that, Jo?" he asked, stepping back. "It was Balthazar's brother who did it, because Balthazar killed himself, because I didn't take him back. What if he was a better person? What if I did take him back and he never hurt a hair on my head for the rest of our lives? Then Dean's life wouldn't be in danger because of me."

Jo pursed her lips angrily. "Castiel Novak, shut the fuck up." Cas was startled at her sudden outburst, but he fell quiet and allowed her to continue. "It is not your fault that Balthazar killed himself. He had a serious problem and he needed help, and he didn't get all of the help that he needed in time. That had nothing to do with you and you couldn't have known anything about it, thus you couldn't have done anything to change the outcome of that. So stop blaming yourself for that." It made sense coming from Jo, but he couldn't even wrap his head around it at this point. Still, Jo continued. "Secondly, it is also not your fault, at all, that Balthazar's brother is a sick, psycho fuck who stalked you all the way to New York and then followed you around, creating chaos in your mind before he broke into your apartment and tortured you, stabbed your boyfriend, and ran off. You said yourself when you explained what happened, Balthazar had said he didn't want Raphael to get mad at you. And he did. So he didn't listen to one of the last wishes of his dead brother, and you in no way are going to blame yourself over any of this. Got it?"

Cas simply nodded, though he didn't believe for a second that he would stop blaming himself until Dean was functioning at one hundred percent. Jo moved away from him and grabbed a paper bag off the table by the door of the hospital room, handing it to him.

"Here, you haven't had a single bite since it happened; you need to eat something."

He took the bag placing it aside. "I… I really can't stomach anything right now, Jo. I have to wait until Dean gets better."

Jo huffed. "Bullshit. You need to eat. Eat something, now. I'm not going to let you go God knows how long without eating until Dean wakes up. It's not healthy, Cas." He stubbornly sat down at Dean's bedside again, and Jo sighed, reaching for the cardboard Starbucks cup she had also brought with her. "At least drink your favorite. You have to have something in your system, and if you're going to insist on staying by Dean's side, you might as well drink coffee."

The tiniest hints of a smile played on the edges of Cas's mouth, and he took the cup, taking a quick sip. "Thanks, Jo," he told her.

"I have to get back to my shift. Even though I'm the manager, this was a special exception. I'll be back when I get off of work, and you'd better eat some of that by then or I'm shoving it down your throat." She grinned, and then walked over and placed a kiss on the top of his head. "I hope he gets better soon, Cas."

Cas smiled sadly as she left the room. So did he.

The next person to arrive was Sam, a few hours later. He politely knocked on the door of the hospital room when Cas was hanging his head, looking down at the floor as he held Dean's hand, and Cas looked up and waved him in.

"You don't have to knock, Sam, he's your brother," Cas told him.

Sam smiled. "Yeah, but I'm not the one who's been at his bedside since this all went down, so I figured I'd give you the courtesy." The corners of Cas's mouth pulled up a little bit, not enough to be a smile, but just enough so that his gratitude came across to Sam. "I was at crew earlier, and Meg is doing her best to take Dean's place while he's out, but it's rough, so I was helping her out a bit. She sent me here to check on you, actually."

Cas frowned. "Don't you mean to check on Dean?"

"Actually, no," Sam replied. "She knows Dean's condition because I've been keeping her and Crowley informed, and she knows I would text or call her immediately if anything changed with him, but she's more concerned about you at this point. It's touching, really. You've grown on her a lot, Cas, and she really considers you and Dean her friends. Me too, but that's only because I'm useful," he added with a smirk.

Cas's frown didn't change. "Why would Meg be worried about me?" he asked.

"Are you serious?" was Sam's dubious response. "Look at yourself, Cas. You've barely slept, you haven't even eaten, and I know that Jo tried because I'm looking at the bag, and you're just torturing yourself. Why don't you go home and get some real sleep or something? I can stay with my brother, nothing is going to happen to him here."

Cas was already shaking his head before Sam was even done speaking. "No," he growled, a bit too angrily for the given situation. "I'm not going anywhere. This is because of me and I'll be damned if I'm not here the second he opens his eyes."

Sam seemed to understand where Cas's anger had come from, so he didn't bring it up as an issue. Instead, he softened, pulling a chair up facing Cas and leaning forward in his chair to look at him. "Cas… we don't know when he's going to wake up. It might not be soon. You can't stay here forever, I mean, you have a show to get back to."

"You're seriously going to pull the whole 'the show must go on' bullshit with me, Sam?" Cas demanded hotly. "Yeah, I get it, it's Broadway, shit's more serious now. Crowley understands full well what's going on here and he hasn't called me yet, so until he does, my ass is staying firmly planted in this chair until your brother wakes up, God damn it."

Sam stood up, backing away a little. "Alright, Jesus, calm down, Cas. I understand what this is doing to you. I'll back off." His expression became a bit more solemn. "I… I'm just as worried about him as you are, you know."

Cas's anger faded at the expression on Sam's face. He swallowed, blinking rapidly in an attempt to fight back the tears once again. "Yeah, Sam, I know."

Sam gestured toward his brother. "Can I… Can I talk to him for a little bit? He's not technically comatose so I don't know if he'll remember anything we tell him when he wakes up, but it's worth a shot."

Cas stood up, offering Sam his chair. "Yeah, of course, Sam, you're his brother. I'll… I'll go to the bathroom. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Yeah, no problem," Sam said, sitting down and looking at his brother.

Cas heard him start talking as he left, but didn't quite catch what Sam was saying. He walked down the hospital hallway into one of the bathrooms, taking care of business and then washing his hands. He grabbed the edges of the sink and looked up at himself in the mirror, seeing his sunken expression, dark circles and bags under his eyes, and messed up hair. "I look like shit…" he muttered, splashing water on his face and drying his face and hands with a paper towel, ignoring the air dryer. Fuck conservation of resources when his boyfriend was unconscious in a hospital bed.

As he approached Dean's room one more time, he couldn't help but guiltily sneak closer to hear what Sam was saying. It was harmless, anyway, it's not like Sam would be saying anything that would be bad for Cas to hear. Sam's voice floated out of the room into Cas's hearing when he got close enough.

"...really something, Dean. He loves you so much… and I know you love him too. I'm sure of it. I see it in your eyes whenever you talk about him, or look at him, or even think about him. You have to find a way to tell him. He deserves that, and then some. He's… he's really special, Dean. I hope you never let him go once you wake up… if you wake up. Please, Dean, you have to wake up. If not for me, then for him."

Cas felt hot tears stinging at his eyes as he re-entered the room. He tried to blink them back, but he couldn't, so he simply walked over to Sam and hugged him. Sam seemed surprised at first, but hugged him back.

"How much of that did you hear?" he asked Cas.

"Enough," Cas replied. "Sorry for listening…"

Sam smiled. "Don't worry about it. It's true. I think really highly of you, Cas. You've done a huge amount of good for my brother and you're a wonderful person, and don't let this incident make you think otherwise, because it wasn't your fault."

Cas nodded, sniffling and wiping away the tears on his cheeks. "Thanks, Sam. You're starting to feel like a brother to me, too, you know."

Sam smiled, looking down at his pocket guiltily. "Then as a brother, you'll understand why I had to do it."

"Do what?" Cas asked, confused. He was completely unprepared for the voice that came from the doorway of the hospital room.

"Castiel fucking Novak, you are going to eat something or I'm going to force it down your God damn throat so hard that you won't have time to digest it before it comes out the other end," Meg threatened.

Cas looked at Meg with wide eyes, and then back at Sam. "Really, Sam? Really?"

Sam sighed, grinning. "I couldn't help myself, Cas. This isn't healthy for you."

Cas tried to be mad, but he couldn't help but chuckle a little. "This is the first time I even came close to laughing since what happened. Thank you both, and Meg, I'll eat something," he said, grabbing the bag that Jo had left and pulling out a bacon cheeseburger.

Meg looked at him and raised an eyebrow curiously, clearly not expecting him to give in so easily. "In that case, share your fries, bitch," she said, grabbing a chair and scooting up next to him.

Sam laughed as Cas smiled, tossing her the paper bag, which she caught deftly, reaching inside to pull out the box of crispy, golden fries.

The following hour was spent with the three eating, talking, and telling stories about Dean. Cas was thoroughly entertained by the latter, with Meg and Sam regaling him with tales of Dean's no-nonsense attitude, which was apparently very near Meg's when it came to the crew members.

At one moment, the three of them were laughing at one of those particular stories, and nobody noticed the heartbeat on Dean's monitor get ever so slightly faster.

"What's so funny?" Dean rasped as he opened his eyes.


	17. Stronger

**Chapter Seventeen: Stronger**

Castiel, Sam, and Meg spun towards the bed in unison after hearing Dean speak, with wide smiles on their faces.

"Oh my God, Dean!" Cas cried, rushing to the side of the bed and doing his best to be gentle as he kissed him briefly. Sam and Meg had already shouted in joy, and Sam joined Cas at Dean's side.

"Whoa… hey, Cas," Dean rasped. Sam could tell from his voice that he was dehydrated, so he grabbed him the bottle of water that he had just bought from the machine and opened it for him, tilting it up to his lips. Dean swallowed, clearing his throat before looking back up at his boyfriend and brother. "Thanks, Sammy… damn, it's good to see you, kid. And… Meg, what are you doing here?"

Meg blinked. "Okay, fine, asshole, I didn't have to leave crew in the hands of a promising techy and ditch work to visit you much to Crowley's annoyance."

Dean grinned. "Sorry, Meg, I didn't mean it like that. I'm happy you're here."

"I'm so happy you're awake, Dean," Cas said, tears forming at his eyes. "I… the doctor said he didn't know when you would wake up. I wouldn't have been able to handle losing you because of this."

Dean's expression darkened as he remembered the circumstances of his injury. "That rat bastard stabbed me. Please, please tell me the cops found him and he's locked up."

Cas was surprised that Dean remembered, considering the head trauma, but he was happy that his boyfriend's memory was all in one piece. "I wish they did, Dean," he replied tentatively. "They're still looking for him."

Sam could sense his brother's coming outburst and jumped in before Dean could get really angry. "Look, Dean, we know you're angry, and trust us, we're pissed as hell, too. And I know that looking isn't good enough and he could be halfway across the world right now if he played his cards right, but don't give up hope. They know who to look for, and with the description of the cut that Cas landed on his face, he'll stand out. Just relax and don't aggravate yourself unconscious."

Dean settled down, breathing slowly. "You're right. You're right, Sam. You're always right when it comes to things like this."

Meg had gotten up to get the attention of a doctor after her exchange with Dean, and the doctor walked into the room as soon as Dean had calmed down.

"Wow, Dean, we certainly weren't expecting you to regain consciousness this fast," the doctor said, impressed, as she walked in, brushing a piece of hair out of her glasses with her finger. "You're certainly a fighter."

Dean smiled. "Thanks, Dr. Simmons," he replied. He'd been to that particular hospital on multiple occasions for some crew-related injury here and there, so he knew her pretty well.

She returned Dean's smile. "Dean, how many times do I have to tell you, call me Tessa."

Dean winked. "Alright, Tessa, whatever. How long am I stuck here?"

Tessa flipped open Dean's chart. "Well, now that you're awake and well, we just have to run a few more tests to make sure you're good to go. You should be out of here by tomorrow afternoon."

Dean glanced towards the window, seeing the sky beginning to darken outside, and grinned. "Awesome."

Meg glanced at her phone. "There's Crowley. Gotta go, I'll give him the good news. See you when you're back in rehearsals, Dean."

"Thanks a lot, Meg," Cas said, and she simply smiled before walking out.

"Well, Dean, I'll be back once I get the go ahead for the MRI," Tessa informed them, stepping out of the room.

"Thanks, Tessa!" Dean called after her, before turning back to Sam and Cas. "How long was I out?"

"Almost three days," Cas told him, grimly remembering. The look of shock on Dean's face was evident. "You would have gone unconscious from the blood loss anyway, the head trauma didn't help."

Dean looked confused. "What head trauma? Wait, what do I even need an MRI for? How the hell was I even out for three days?"

Sam blinked, looking at Cas, and then back to his brother. "Dean, when you passed out from the stab wound, you slammed your head on the kitchen counter. It doesn't even hurt you or anything?"

"Well, yeah, but it just feels like a bad headache," he replied, feeling the back of his head to where his stitches were. "Holy fucking shit," he mumbled, feeling them.

"Yeah," Cas said. "That's why you were out so long. You probably would have been fine much sooner if you hadn't hit your head."

"Yeah, well, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?" Dean looked over at his boyfriend, big green eyes boring right into him, and Cas felt as if his knees would buckle were he standing. He had no idea how Dean could just look at him and take him apart, just glance at him with everything he felt for Cas seemingly laden onto those emerald irises, and leave him breathless. He leaned over the bed and placed a gentle kiss on Dean's lips.

"I know you still can't say it back. But I love you." Cas told him.

Dean simply leaned over again and kissed him even more deeply. "I know. And don't ever hesitate to tell me whenever you want because it makes me the happiest man alive."

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, standing up once again. "Um, yeah… I'm gonna go now. I'll see if Meg needs my help at rehearsal. Dean, make him go home and get some sleep. He's barely gotten any holed up here. If Meg hadn't come, he wouldn't have eaten anything in the last three days."

Cas stared after Sam as he left, and turned towards Dean sheepishly, noting the look of disapproval on Dean's face. "Before you say anything, Dean, you have no idea what it was like having you in that bed and not knowing when you would wake up."

Dean turned his expression stern. "Cas, I don't care what state I'm in, there's no excuse to not take care of yourself like that. Why didn't you just go home and get some rest and eat something?" At the downcast look of self-disappointment on Cas's face, Dean softened. "Hey, look… I'm thrilled that you were here for me this whole time and I know how much you love me. I just wish you would have taken better care of yourself, that's all. Now that you know I'm okay, I want you to go home and get some sleep. And eat something."

Cas leaned over and kissed him one more time. "...Okay. I will. But I'll be back here first thing in the morning tomorrow. Now that you're up it'll be my last day to take off before I have to be back at rehearsals so I wanna be here for your last tests and to take you home."

Dean smiled sweetly, filling with warmth at Cas's words. "Alright. Of course you can. I'll be fine here, I'm pretty tired, actually. Being stabbed will do that to ya."

Cas chuckled. Dean could make light out of absolutely any situation. It was actually quite an endearing quality. He stood up, grabbing his things that had scattered themselves around the room throughout the past two days, and kissed Dean one last time before leaving. The walk back to the apartment was… well, it was terrifying. He had no idea where Raphael was and whether or not he'd come back to try and hurt him again, but the police had a few men watching the apartment building after questioning Lisa, so he knew that he would be safe. Still, he jumped at nearly every shadow that moved, and by the time he opened the apartment door and locked it behind him, he slid down to the floor in relief. He didn't think he'd feel fully safe ever again, until he knew Raphael was behind bars.

It was then that the full stress of the last few days hit him, and he sat against the door of the apartment sobbing into his jacket. He cried in relief because Dean was okay, and Raphael was being chased after by the police and it was all going to be okay. He cried in anger that Raphael would go against his dead brother's final wishes in his suicide video, and he cried in despair that Balthazar even killed himself in the first place that caused all this. No matter what anyone else told him, he couldn't help but feel as if he was to blame. It would take him awhile to get over this one.

Cas stood up on shaky, weak legs that carried him just far enough to fall to the floor in front of the nightstand, and he pulled out the bottom drawer and took out the box that he had kept this entire time. The box with Balthazar's chain in it. He took out the chain, and held it to his chest, and slid onto the bed and cried into the pillow. He was with Dean now and he was happy in that aspect, but he cried for all that had happened between him and Balthazar; he cried for all that they missed out on and all that they could've been. It was okay to miss someone he had loved once, even considering the way it ended, and he knew that he would never have wanted to try again with Balthazar, but he wished he could have done something to save his life. Because he had loved him, once upon a time, and he would never wish death on him for what happened between them. He could only hope that his awful brother would be put into prison for tarnishing what had become Castiel's new life, because from what he'd heard, Balthazar would have wanted anything but that.

* * *

Raphael wrapped up his new plans in a much more modest hotel room - that's to say, one of his aliases did, finishing up plans for another flight to Europe. The NYPD was looking for Raphael Vaughan or Gordon Walker, but they'd never heard of Adrian Zachary Fell, modest bookshop owner from Britain and collector of rare bibles.

He packed what little he'd gotten out of his hotel room before he'd had to disappear and ran a hand through newly dyed-red hair, and sat down to wait.

Then the door to his hotel room opened.

"How far the mighty have fallen," said a man Raphael didn't recognize. "And really? There's no honor among thieves. Especially not when they happen to like musical theatre."

"Who the hell are you?" Raphael asked.

The man smiled. "Michael Hendricks. I put a lot of money into that show Castiel Novak is starring in, and I don't appreciate the fact that, if you'd killed him, that show would've gone down in flames."

"And what, precisely, do you mean to do about it?" He kept himself calm. Clearly, this was a businessman, and businessmen could be reasoned with, bribed if necessary, and even A. Z. Fell had very deep pockets - not as deep as Raphael Vaughan's, but deep enough to sate one man, surely.

Michael smiled. It was chilling. "Sit down, Mister Vaughan - so I can make it very simple for you."

Raphael found himself obeying despite himself - something in the dark glimmer of Hendricks' eyes, the low rumble of his voice, was utterly commanding.

"Good," Michael said, drawing a gun from inside his expensive suit jacket. He leveled it at Raphael's head. "See, you seem to have a thing for monologuing, if reports are anything to go by. I'm going to repay the favor."

"Really," Raphael said, a sardonic twist to his mouth, despite having a gun pointed at his head.

Michael nodded. "First, though, I think we can have a glass of wine. No reason to be impolite, is there?" he said, gesturing with the gun to the bottle of wine on ice on the table.

"Considering you've barged in uninvited and are threatening me with a gun, I think we can dispense with niceties, Mr. Hendricks."

"Huh, I like you," Michael said. "Cool in the face of pressure. Let me guess - before you became a vengeance-obsessed monster, you did something high-stakes in the business world, right?" He smirked. "If you hadn't gotten on my bad side, I could've made use of someone like you."

Raphael arched an eyebrow dubiously. "In business or in crime?"

"Either," Michael admitted, smirk splitting his lips. "But, unfortunately for you, you tried to kill the star of my show, and nearly killed its crew chief."

"Pity," Raphael said, voice bone-dry. He cocked his head to the side. "Now, are you going to use that?" he asked, nodding at the gun.

"Yes," Michael said, and Raphael's left kneecap suddenly blew away, resulting in a scream of pain. "Don't test me. You die bloody, but it's your choice how bad it has to hurt."

"Bloody hell," Raphael hissed, voice breaking. "You're crazy."

Michael's smile turned almost gentle as he shook his head and pulled the trigger again, taking care of Raphael's other kneecap and reveling in the sound of agony it caused. "Pot, meet kettle."

Raphael snarled, in too much pain to form words by now.

"And man is reduced to an animal in his last moment, as always," Michael muttered, shaking his head.

The next shot buried itself between Raphael's eyes. He died with his eyes open, and Michael smiled as the man fell backward on the bed. That was done - he didn't usually do his own dirty work, but Castiel Novak merited an exception.

He pulled a neatly tied stack of fifty-dollar bills out of his jacket and put them on the table, because housekeeping deserved a massive tip for this mess.

He turned, and, to his surprise, someone was standing in the doorway of the room.

He smiled again. "You're supposed to be driving the getaway car."

"I couldn't resist coming to watch. Your wrath has always been something to see," the other man said, hands stuffed in the pockets of casual jeans. "And yet you decided to front everything, play legitimate."

"Someone has to," he replied easily. "And it was never for you. You like your hands bloody." He stepped toward the other man until they were well within each others' space.

The other man's smile was like a knife-blade, but his eyes were curiously soft. Michael reached up and pulled him in for a kiss, long and languid as he could risk, given they were in the doorway of a dead man's hotel room.

"Idle hands are the devil's best tools, Michael," the other man admonished, mock-gently.

Michael smirked. "And no one's idle hands are better than yours, right?"

The other man laughed, and they left the hotel with only a smile for the receptionist - who'd been pacified by another considerable sum, and appeared to not even notice them - and with eyes reflecting matching satisfaction.


	18. Titanium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Check out the poet that Lucifer quotes, Richard Siken. His work is amazing. :)

**Chapter Eighteen: Titanium**

"Alright Dean, you should be all set to go," Tessa told him, handing him his release form.

Dean had a wide smile on his face that Cas hadn't seen since he woke up. "Fuck yeah, thanks Tessa," he replied, signing the form with a flourish. She smiled back at him and left the room, and he looked at Cas. "Well, shall we be off?"

Cas grinned, leaning over the bed to kiss him. "Yup. Let's get you the hell out of here, you must be squirming by now."

"You know it," Dean confirmed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing up shakily. They had made sure Dean could walk a few hours ago, and he was really, really shaky at first due to the inactivity of the last few days, but as soon as Cas grabbed his hand the first time, he was instantly fine. Tessa had shaken her head, seemingly noting the effect that Cas had on Dean. She had taken Cas aside and told him that she hadn't really seen anything like it before, and that the bond they shared was certainly something special. Tessa also told Cas that she didn't think Dean would have gotten better as fast as he did if Cas hadn't been around that entire time. Having a doctor tell him that his bond with his boyfriend was something special that was basically a medical miracle was the most uplifting thing Cas had heard in the last two weeks.

Dean took a few steps toward Cas and extended his hand, which Cas took, leading him out of the hospital room and to the elevator. Cas had, upon Dean's request, thrown out the old clothes he had been wearing on the night the incident with Raphael happened, torn and bloodstained as they were, and brought him new ones to leave the hospital in. They stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor, signing Dean out at the lobby and exiting, opting to walk back to their block instead of taking the subway, because Dean wasn't quite sure if he could do stairs yet.

The afternoon sun did nothing to dispel the December chill, but the two were dressed in warm jackets as well as the clothes they had on, so the crisp air didn't bother them much as they walked down the busy New York street. Last minute, Cas decided to stop at Starbucks to visit Jo, because Jo wasn't able to return the night before after her shift was over, so she had expressed a desire to see Dean once he was released when Cas had texted her about it earlier.

No sooner had the bells above the door to the coffee shop jingled than Jo flew out from behind the counter, barreling into Dean in a tackling hug. Dean stumbled a little bit, but Cas made sure he didn't fall over as he held Jo up.

"Jesus Christ, Jo, you nearly knocked him over and made him hit his head again," Cas joked.

"Yeah, well, he's better now, so I'm allowed to be this happy," Jo replied, giving Dean a huge smooch on the cheek before slapping his shoulder. "And if you ever scare me like that again, so help me God I will wake you from your semi-coma just to put you back into one myself."

Dean chuckled, letting Jo return to the floor so that she could hug Cas as well. "As long as you can make me coffee, you can tackle me all you want, Jo."

Jo laughed, moving back behind the counter. "You're lucky that it's quick at this hour, I usually get my customer traffic in another hour and a half or so."

The other barista on shift, Ava, waved to Dean and Cas amicably. They were nothing short of a legend at Jo's Starbucks, from what Cas heard. Jo quickly whipped up their usuals and served them, swiping Cas's card and inputting her employee number for the discount.

"Thanks, Jo, you're the best," Cas told her, smiling.

"No problem, now get his sorry ass home and keep him on bed rest!" Jo scolded playfully, and waved as they left.

When the door opened to their apartment, Dean noted that the place had been cleaned up since the incident. At Cas's request, Sam and Gabe had come by and made sure that all the blood was gone (after the police were done taking what they needed and cleaning their own mess, of course) and to remove the chair and the ropes that had been around it, as well as giving the place a general sprucing up so that it would be okay for when Dean came home. The last thing they wanted to do was get Dean riled up about Raphael again by seeing the remains of what he left behind.

"Oh, thank God, I thought it would be forever before I got back on this bed," Dean said, flopping down on the comfortable memory foam mattress, sinking in with an exhausted, yet relieved sigh, sprawling out on the bed right in the middle.

Cas smirked. "Well, okay babe, if you want to sprawl out and claim the whole bed for yourself, I'll go lay down on the couch," he said, winking in Dean's direction and turning back toward the bedroom door.

Dean immediately sat up to the edge of the bed and pouted. "No, baby, don't go," he called, patting the bed next to him. "I don't sleep right if you're not next to me, and Jo told you that I have to be on bed rest, and I wouldn't be resting if I didn't have you."

Cas's heart warmed at the sweet words, and he walked back over to the bed to kiss his boyfriend softly on the mouth, smiling. "Okay then."

After they kicked off their constricting jeans, they slipped underneath the blue silk sheets (that had been recently dry-cleaned after their most recent sexual romp on them) and Dean turned over on his good side, pulling Cas backwards so that their bodies were flush against one another.

"You know, Cas..." Dean began, and Cas turned to face him. "When I'm with you, I feel like I'm invincible. Like, we just got through everything that happened, and we're all that much stronger for it. I feel like no matter how much people will try to tear us down, we'll stay strong."

Tears prickled at Cas's eyes. "Yeah, Dean. I feel that way too." He leaned over and kissed him, curling an arm around Dean's waist and resting his head on his boyfriend's chest.

Laying that way and drifting off into sleep with Dean not far behind, the evening glow slipping in through the curtains, Cas had never felt more like he was home.

* * *

The man the mob called Lucifer smiled down at his handiwork - minor drug dealer, more of a liability alive than dead - and stepped toward the sink, only to find Michael Hendricks standing there, leaning against the edge of it.

He raised an eyebrow. "You never come down to the workshop."

"Usually I care about making a mess," Michael responded. He was in his shirtsleeves, but Lucifer knew for a fact that his trousers alone were designer, and thus, more expensive than reasonable. He looked exhausted.

Lucifer's hands were bloody, and Michael's shirt was cream-colored. "And what a mess we'll be making."

Michael smiled as Lucifer approached, but didn't move. As usual, Lucifer was going to have to tempt him into moving, tempt him into their little dance.

Of course, like his namesake, he was the master of temptation.

"Bad day at work?" he asked, getting into Michael's space.

"Busy," Michael said softly, a breath away from his lips. "You should come to the theatre one day. Clear out your schedule and visit me. You'd like it."

Lucifer smiled, trailing his hands a few inches away from that pristine shirt. "Maybe I would. Anyone you want me to take care of?" he whispered. "I haven't made a kill in a dressing room before. Might be nice."

"Not like that, Lucifer, and you know it," Michael replied, rolling his eyes. "Now touch me."

"I don't respond well to orders," Lucifer said, voice a low purr, and he withdrew, leaving Michael still pristine and untouched.

Michael smirked at him. "You never did."

Lucifer retreated, keeping his body loose as he backed up to the opposite wall. It was a small room, meant to keep someone anxious and claustrophobic once he had them where he wanted them, built for crowding someone until they gave him what they wanted.

That kind of thing would never work on Michael, Lucifer knew, even if he wanted to try it.

Michael advanced, smirk as wicked as Lucifer felt. "I still need to teach you the meaning of respect, I suppose," he murmured, reaching out to put a hand on the wall next to Lucifer's head. "Even after all these years, you're still a brat, hmm?"

"I put it to good use, don't I?" Lucifer murmured. "You like it. Like having something to conquer." He reached up and bloodied up that pale blue silk tie, pulling Michael into a quick-and-dirty kiss. "Daddy's little mobster."

"Momma's boy," Michael shot back, chasing Lucifer's lips.

"'World-wise, world-weary, and not his mother's favorite, this Jeff will always win when it all comes down to fisticuffs,'" Lucifer replied, cleaning his hands on Michael's shirt. "'Unfortunately for him, it doesn't always all come down to fisticuffs.'"

"'O how he loves you, darling boy. O how he, like always, invents the monsters underneath the bed to get you to sleep next to him, chest to chest or chest to back, the covers drawn around you in an act of faith against the night,'" Michael countered, brushing lips over Lucifer's ear.

Lucifer grinned, biting Michael's jaw - not hard enough to leave a mark, that was their only rule: no marks that could be seen when they were dressed - and wondering at his luck. "The one in front will want to tear you apart, and slowly."

Michael kissed him then, silencing him with lips and teeth and tongue, both a blessing and a punishment.

Lucifer slid his hands up Michael's chest, up his throat, tangling in his hair and pulling at it, snarling. This was always a fight for them, always - not that either of them minded, not really - and Michael responded to that by spreading Lucifer's legs with a relentless knee.

Lucifer fought him every inch of the way, clamping his legs around that knee and grinding down on it. He used Michael's physical strength against him, as he always did when Michael got like this.

Michael pulled on his hair, yanking his head to the side to bite at at Lucifer's neck and down to his collarbone, harsh and hard. Lucifer smiled at the pain. He pulled Michael's shirt out from his trousers and slid his hands up under the back of it, making long scratches in his skin.

Michael growled into his chest and yanked at his hair even harder, and Lucifer keened in the back of his throat. This was the side of Michael he liked best, this feral version of him, as twisted as Lucifer himself was.

Lucifer gave into the sensations, fighting because it was in their nature and because he liked it. They rutted against each other right there, Michael's hand snaking between them and getting them off, brutal and perfect. Exactly as planned. Lucifer tumbled over the edge as he drew blood from Michael's back. Michael followed, sullied perfection almost enough to give Lucifer an after-echo of his own orgasm.

They stood there like that, against the wall, each getting his breath back, until Michael stiffened. He always did, afterward. It was a shame, too, but it was just how it was.

After all, their sexual encounters always reminded Michael how twisted they both were, and Michael still liked to pretend to be normal. Always the white-collar side of things, always keeping himself untouchable in the eyes of society, in the eyes of the law, in the eyes of the Family.

He was always going to be his dirty little secret, and at least Lucifer could pretend he didn't care that was the case.

Michael pulled away, Lucifer's feet touching the ground again. The man walked away, muttering something under his breath. He hated the feeling he always got afterwards.

Lucifer simply rolled his eyes.

Michael didn't even look at him as he left the room, but the stiffening in his shoulders let Lucifer know that he was feeling what he always felt. Regret.

In the wake of Michael's leaving, Lucifer turned back to his work. He did, after all, still have remains to get rid of.

* * *

They had planned on sleeping in, but they were woken bright and early at nine o'clock the next morning by the ringing of their doorbell. Dean groaned in his sleep as he rolled over and nearly landed on his still healing stab wound, changing the groan into a grunt of pain, but he remained asleep. Cas immediately got up, pulling on a pair of Dean's sweatpants, his jaw set angrily as he stalked towards the front door, opening it with the chain lock still in place, which offered only a small gap in the doorway, already speaking. "You know, someone living here is recovering from the hospital and it's kind of rude to -" He immediately cut himself off when he realized that the two men standing at the front door were holding up FBI badges.

"We do understand that Dean is on the mend, but this was a matter of utmost importance," the first man said apologetically. "May we come in?"

"Of course, I'm so sorry, agents," Cas replied as he shut the door and fumbled with the chain lock, sliding it out of it's holder and opening the door once more, pulling it completely open. "I apologize, I should have looked before I started speaking," he told them as they entered.

"Don't worry about it, Castiel," the other agent told him as they walked in, and Cas waved them to sit down on the couch as he pulled up the armchair across from them at the coffee table. "It is kind of early, especially with Dean newly released from the hospital. You both must be very tired. I'm Agent Clarke, and this is my partner, Agent Sanchez. We've been assigned to your case."

Cas tilted his head, confused. "So you're here to get more information about Raphael? Look, I already told the police everything I know, and Dean only arrived on the scene, he had no prior knowledge to anything that had gone on, so he has nothing to offer."

Agent Sanchez nodded, glancing down at the coffee table. "Castiel, it appears that things have gotten more complicated than even Raphael. Raphael Vaughan was found murdered in his new hotel room, which he had booked under an alias, with nothing on the scene as to suggest who shot him."

Cas felt his blood run cold. Raphael was dead? That should be a relief to him, but now it opened up a multitude of other doors. Who was it who killed Raphael? Was it someone who wanted to protect Cas? Or… someone who saw Raphael as competition and wanted Cas for themselves? He shuddered. Whatever this meant, it wasn't good. Either someone committed murder on his and Dean's behalf, or someone else was after them. "I… oh, Jesus," he swore simply; there was no other reaction to news like that, really.

"We did talk to the hospital staff and we are aware that you were with Dean throughout his entire stay at the hospital, and couldn't possibly be a suspect," Agent Clarke began, "but we just came here today to let you know the circumstances and why it has reached a federal level of concern. There have been multiple rumors of organized crime in the area, but it's New York City, so rumors like that fly around all the time. Yet there's something about this that seems too suspicious for a normal murder. We have yet to deduce possible motives, but we have no reason to believe that anybody else would want you dead."

Cas slumped into the armchair dejectedly. He should feel better about all this, but all he could think was that he had another death on his hands because of him. Because Balthazar killed himself, and then Raphael came after him, and then wound up dying. It was all his fault.

"Do you have any questions, Castiel?" Agent Sanchez asked him. He simply shook his head, and accepted the cards of the agents when they were offered. "Give either of us a call if you or Dean think of anything, and please tell him about what we came here to discuss today. We apologize for waking you up, and we hope you stay safe."

"Thanks, agents," Cas replied, as he showed them the door, shutting and locking it behind them. He slipped Dean's sweatpants off when he got back into the bedroom, and slid underneath the covers next to Dean once again. Dean instinctively reached for him and curled around him, and the simpleness and reflexivity of it made Cas smile. He could worry about everything once they woke up after he got some more sleep.


	19. Secondhand White Baby Grand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is from Smash and it's AH-MA-ZING. <3

**Chapter Nineteen: Secondhand White Baby Grand**

The last note of the song was held out by the entire cast in glorious harmony, and as the song finished, they all held their poses, poised around Castiel. The final notes echoed throughout the large theater, and they all remained in position, breathing heavily, beaming smiles aimed out towards the back of the house, waiting for Crowley to stop talking to Meg long enough to tell them if it was a good run or not.

"Alright, take five for crew, cast dismissed!" Meg yelled, and her voice was so loud even from that distance that the entire cast was startled, and one dancer even fell over from the position she was holding. Everyone laughed after that, and Cas helped the dancer up as Meg strode down the aisle.

"Everyone, listen up," Cas called out, getting the cast's attention. "Just a reminder that the karaoke night we're doing at my friend's Starbucks is tonight at eight, if you're going to perform, bring a CD with your back track and I'll see you all then." Most people nodded their confirmation and smiled at him, so he turned to the stage left backstage area to see Meg talking to the new techie, a red-haired woman operating the sound and lighting boards. The way that Meg leaned on the table next to the girl, her posture, and the look on her face… it was absolutely nothing like Meg. His curiosity sufficiently piqued, Cas strode over, catching the tail end of their conversation.

"Yeah, I'm just really impressed that you can do all of it yourself," Meg was saying. "Usually we'd have two or three people on your job and they'd still be getting it wrong but you're like clockwork every time. It's definitely a gift."

The redhead flushed, looking up at her. "Thanks, I guess it's a memory thing. I see the cues in front of me and my fingers just go to the right buttons on instinct."

Meg looked up, seeing Cas approaching, and visibly noting the raised-eyebrow look of surprise on his face. "I'll talk to you later, Charlie," Meg said to the other woman, and followed Cas out one of the stage doors, where he immediately rounded on her.

"Spill it, Meg," he told her, wearing a shit-eating grin.

Meg glanced at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

Cas raised his eyebrows. "Oh, come on. Don't give me that crap. I saw the way you were laying on the flirt."

There was silence for a few seconds, and then Meg looked down at the ground. "She makes me forget," she whispered.

The shift in the conversation from playful and teasing to shockingly serious did not go unnoticed by Castiel, and it took him aback. "Whoa, Meg, hold on, what do you mean?"

Meg looked up at him, and then looked around. "This is too… open. Come with me." She grabbed his wrist and half pulled, half dragged him to a small little crew workshop.

"I thought I'm not allowed in here," Cas joked half-heartedly.

The glare he received told him to shut up, so he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Cas, I… I'm only telling you this because out of everybody I know you're the one person who I've grown to trust. But I swear to you, if a single word is repeated to someone else, I will make your life a living hell, got it?" Meg's threatening face was probably enough to scare the crap out of an angry bear, so Cas simply nodded, wordless.

Meg sighed before continuing. "When I was still in high school, I discovered my bisexuality and had a girlfriend. My father was an uptight self-righteous born-again Christian who thought that I was committing the foulest type of sin that exists, and he hated me for it. Every God damn night I had to listen to him pray next to my bed that the Lord would 'fix' me." Cas's face twisted in disgust at that one, but he stayed completely silent, ready to hear everything she had to say. "One day I got sick of it," Meg continued, "so I told him to shove it up his ass, and he threw me out. My mother was a bystander, she said nothing and did nothing to help me. I was cast out of my family, and moved in with my girlfriend. We broke up after graduation because we were going away to different states, and I moved to New York to find the acceptance that was denied to me by my parents. Every day I walk these streets and know why it is that I'm here. Because my family didn't love me enough to support who I am. And it follows me throughout my life, like this sick, ugly scar that I can't help but notice in the mirror when I wake up every morning."

"Meg, I'm… I'm so sorry. I know firsthand how that feels," Cas told her, and he was telling the truth. Although, it seemed to stick with Meg and rub her raw, while Cas had gotten over his father's intolerance years ago. "How does Charlie play into this?"

A look came over Meg's face that Cas couldn't quite place. It was a mix between uplifting hope and bitter sadness, and he didn't know what it meant. "Charlie's a blessing in disguise," Meg confessed. "Normally, I avoid people who I see as relationship material like the plague, but Charlie was different. She found me at a bookstore, and tried to strike up conversation by the fantasy shelf, which I shut down immediately. But she… she just kept trying. She eventually saw right through my act of pushing her away, and we sat down and talked. I found out that she's quite technologically savvy and had experience working lights and sound before, so I brought her in for a test run at rehearsal and she took to the cues like she'd been doing them for months. She's a fucking genius. And…" Meg trailed off, looking into the distance before continuing. "Not once when I'm around Charlie do I think about what happened. She makes me forget."

Cas nodded sagely. "It's obvious why you like her then. Well, Meg, if anything, she seems interested in you being how you guys first started talking, so why don't you just ask her out or something?"

Meg blanched. "I, uh…" She blushed, and Cas did a double take to confirm that yes, Meg Masters was actually blushing, and then cleared her throat awkwardly. "That has never exactly worked out for me in the past."

"Okay, then try the more subtle approach. Draw her into more conversation and be around her until she asks you out," Cas suggested. Meg simply nodded, before catching Cas by surprise when she pulled him into a hug.

If Meg didn't have her arms around him, Cas would have fallen over, because Meg Masters was fucking hugging him. He felt… strangely honored, and he returned the embrace.

"That didn't happen," Meg said flatly after they pulled apart, and they looked at each other for a split second before bursting out laughing.

"Meg, I… thank you, for telling me all that. I think a lot of people misjudge other people because they don't know them, and I never judged you, but now I can see why you come off the way you do sometimes. But I want you to know that you'll always find acceptance with me and Dean."

Meg raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you speak for him too, now?"

Cas chuckled. "Not exactly, but you know Dean. He respects you just as much as I do."

"Thanks for listening, Cas. I really appreciate it." Meg paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Now let's get the fuck out of here before I turn into a nice person or something."

Leaving the room, Meg headed off in the direction of Charlie's work station, and Cas left the building, turning towards his apartment. He had a lot of reflection to do if he wanted to pull off his song for karaoke that night.

* * *

"You ready to go, babe?" Dean asked, smiling at his boyfriend from across the room, where Cas stood at the mirror, making sure everything was picture perfect.

"Yeah, I think so," Cas said, turning to him and shooting him a beaming smile. Dean grinned in response, walking over to Cas and slipping behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist. Cas leaned into him in automatic response, and Dean nuzzled into the cleft of his shoulder before kissing his neck.

"You're beautiful when you smile, you know that?"

Cas turned to him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "Not as beautiful as you."

Dean pulled him in closer for a deeper kiss, then pulled away. "As much as I'd like to continue, I'm much more interested in hearing what you're going to sing tonight, so let's not be late."

"I'm last, but everyone else who's going is phenomenal, so we definitely want to be there on time," Cas agreed, pulling away to grab his CD off of the dresser. "Alright, let's go."

Jo's Starbucks was packed by the time they got there; apparently word had gotten out to most of Jo's usual customers (from what Ava had told Cas, she refused to stop talking about it since they originally planned it), and everyone wanted to see what the cast of the new up and coming Broadway show had to offer.

A stage had been set up in front of the counter, and most of the tables had been moved to make room for chairs surrounding the stage, which were all filled, and it was standing room only. Promptly at eight, one of the chorus members, Aileen, kicked off the show with a splendid performance of Demi Lovato's Give Your Heart A Break, and received racuous applause.

The night continued, and every single performer was absolutely fantastic. Dean sat with Castiel in the back of the room, blown away by the sounds he was hearing from these people, most of which weren't even important characters in the show they were in. He shook his head, amazed at how competitive the world of theater was. It made him even more proud to know that his boyfriend was THE lead, and he was happy to have someone as wonderful and talented as Cas.

There were only a few people left before Cas's turn, and the songs just got more and more intense and showstopping. His friend Amber, a headstrong, outspoken black woman, had a small body, but one hell of a voice. She belted out Jennifer Hudson's version of And I Am Telling You from Dreamgirls, and received a standing ovation, Dean and Cas included. Cas was beaming when Anna took the stage to perform a smash rendition of Good Girl by Carrie Underwood.

Finally, over an hour had passed and it was time for Cas to take the stage. He still hadn't told Dean what song he was singing, and he took the stage to much applause after Jo introduced him. Before he put his CD in the player, he stepped up to the microphone.

"We've seen some amazing people sing some amazing songs tonight, everybody. I figured I'd wrap it up with something to take the tone down a little bit, something less known with a lot of meaning. This song really hits home for me, and I'm dedicating it to everyone who's ever felt like they were broken. I've been there, you could say I still am there, in a way, and it's rough. So this is for you."

He looked at Meg standing off in the corner as he said that last line, and Dean wondered if something had gone on that he hadn't heard about, but then the piano track started.

Cas took a deep breath, before taking the microphone in hand.

_"My mother bought it secondhand from a silent movie star_

_It was out of tune but still I learned to play_

_And with each note we both would smile, forgetting who we are_

_And all the pain would simply fly away…"_

It was a soft, slow ballad, and from the first note, Dean was absolutely, hands down entranced. He hung on every note, every syllable, every small, sad smile that Cas made, and he just stared.

_"Something secondhand and broken still can make a pretty sound_

_Even if it doesn't have a place to live_

_Oh, the words were left unspoken 'til my momma came around_

_But that secondhand white baby grand still had something beautiful to give."_

Dean knew exactly why Cas had chosen this song. He could see it in his azure, shining eyes from all the way across the room. Everything that Cas had endured recently had beaten him down and broken him up, and in this small gesture of singing this song, he was showing the world that there was something left of him, something he could put his heart and soul into and give it all he had. Dean swore silently to himself at that moment of realization that he would try his damn hardest to make sure that Cas never felt secondhand and broken.

_"Through missing keys and broken strings, the music was our own_

_Until the day we said our last goodbyes_

_The baby grand was sent away, a child all alone_

_To pray somebody else would realize_

_That something secondhand and broken still can make a pretty sound_

_Even if it doesn't have a place to live_

_Oh, the words are still unspoken now that momma's not around_

_But that secondhand white baby grand still has something beautiful to give."_

Everything that Cas had been feeling, all the times he'd tried to tell Dean how much he felt like it was his fault, and Dean wouldn't let him because it just wasn't his damn fault, it all fell into place at that moment. Dean hadn't just listened and let him let everything out, and now he'd been bottling it up, and it was weighing down on him and breaking him into pieces. He was trying so damn hard and doing his best, staying professional at work, giving the best performance he could give, and he was doing so well that Dean barely even noticed. There was one thing that he had to fix then. Cas was pouring his heart out right there for everyone, and, looking around, Dean could tell that they were eating it up. Meg's eyes were glistening with tears in the corner, and it piqued his interest, but he kept his attention on Cas, feeling himself start to get a little choked up as well.

_"For many years the music had to roam_

_Until we found a way to find a home_

_And now I wake up every day and see her standing there_

_Just waiting for a partner to compose_

_And I wish my mother still could hear that sound beyond compare_

_I'll play her song till everybody knows…"_

Cas looked right at Dean when he sang about waking up every day, and Dean felt his heart warm. He was singing about finding his place, finding a home, and Dean could tell that their home was home to Cas. He felt honored that Cas would consider him part of his home. And that was what brought the tears to his eyes.

_"Something secondhand and broken still can make a pretty sound_

_Everyone deserves a family room to live_

_Oh, the words won't stay unspoken, not 'til everyone has found_

_That secondhand white babygrand still has something beautiful to give."_

Cas trailed off into his falsetto, the high sequence of notes flowing from him like honey, and the piano music still echoed softly behind him. Dean could see a single tear flow down Cas's cheek as he finished with one last line.

_"I still have something beautiful to give."_

The audience absolutely lost it. They jumped up, cheering, screaming, whistling, cat calling, everything, most of them crying, and Cas smiled, the kind of laughing smile that usually accompanies being cheered for like that, but he was still crying. Dean pushed his way past people, tears streaming down his own face and made his way up onto the stage to grab his crying boyfriend and pull him into a deep, passionate kiss. The crowd went berserk, all of Cas's friends including Jo and Meg in the corner hooting and hollering, and Dean grabbed Cas's hand, pulling him off the stage and through the crowd, out of the door.

Neither of them said a word as they made their way back to the apartment. They reached their floor on the elevator and Dean shakily pulled out his key, opening the door, closing it behind Cas and turning to him, pulling him into an embrace.

"Cas, look at me," Dean said, softly but firmly. Cas obliged, looking up at him with glistening eyes. "I should have let you say what you were feeling instead of squashing it down, and for that, I'm sorry. But you… you have no idea how beautiful you are. The way you just inspired that whole crowd and brought nearly every one of them to tears in there? That's what real talent is, and that's a real gift. Touching people the way you do. The way you've touched me."

Cas went to speak, but Dean placed a finger over his lips. "Just listen," he told his boyfriend, and Cas nodded as Dean continued. "You're a lot of things, Castiel. And broken may be one of them. But I swear to you, I will be the one kneeling by your side to help you pick up the pieces, from here on out. You're the most important person in my life right now, Cas, and that's why I'll be there. Because when I'm with you… nothing else matters."

He shuddered, exhaling and taking a deep breath before he brought voice to his feelings at last, eyes glistening. "I love you, Castiel."


	20. 1 + 1

**Chapter Twenty: 1+1**

The full significance of those words swallowed Cas like a storm of cataclysmic proportions, shaking him down to his core.

I love you, Dean had said. I love you.

Despite everything, despite all of the damage that had been done to both of them over the years, despite that very specific issue Dean had with saying the words, Dean had said I love you.

Cas did the only thing he could; he started crying again. He melted into Dean's arms, wrapping his own around Dean's neck and hugging him tightly, tears streaming down his face as he murmured, "Thank you, thank you, I love you," over and over again into Dean's ear.

Dean's hands tightened on Cas's back, and he, too, was shaking. Cas just pressed closer, his face buried in Dean's shoulder.

They stayed like that for a long while, the both of them shaking in the dim light of the apartment; they were only just inside, after all, and all but the nearest lights were out. Finally, Cas pulled back, but stayed in the loop of Dean's embrace, keeping close even as he walked them backward into the living room.

Dean smiled at him, half-hesitant but positively glowing with happiness. "So, um," he said, a little awkward.

"Um," Cas replied, smiling and kissing him gently.

Dean slid a hand into Castiel's hair, deepening the kiss, leaning forward and pressing into Cas until Cas slid backward, down onto the couch. Dean simply climbed on top of him, slotting their bodies together and pressing into him, body and lips, deepening their embrace. It wasn't needy, it wasn't fire-hot, it was warm and intense and passionate, and Cas knew that they wouldn't just be having sex that night, they would be making love.

Dean parted for just a split second. "I love you," he whispered breathlessly, before pulling Cas back into his kiss.

Cas pulled away just the slightest to return the sentiment, and then lost himself in the weight of his boyfriend, his love, above him, and the feel of his soft lips pressing into his own, tongues lazily snaking out every once in awhile. It was perfect - it was more than perfect.

"Cas," Dean said softly, pulling up and away from him just a little bit. "If I lost everything I own, if I was left with nothing, I would be okay because I had you. If the world was crashing down around us, I would just hold you tight and nothing else would matter." Cas could see him starting to get choked up, and he managed to rasp out his last sentence before giving in to the passion. "I love you so much," he choked out, a tear running down his cheek as Cas grabbed the back of his neck and pressed their lips together, tears falling down his own face.

"I'm so in love with you," he gasped out, kissing Dean for all he was worth. "Make love to me," he whispered, and Dean nodded, standing up and taking him by the hand, leading him into their bedroom, stopping every few moments to kiss him like he was the very center of the universe.

Clothes were shed as they made their way to the bed, undressing at the same pace as their kisses. It was slow, intense, and oh so right. It began with Dean unbuttoning Cas's shirt, slow as could be done, but never quite teasing. By then, they were both very close to the bed, and Dean glanced at the candle on the nightstand and smiled. "Hey, lemme try something," he said softly, kissing Cas gently this time before digging around for the matches in the nightstand drawer. Cas smiled at him, arms slung loosely around his waist now, and kissed his shoulder gently. Dean lit the candle and dimmed all the other lights.

He let go of Cas entirely, just for a moment. His matches in hand, he swung over to the other side of the bed and lit the candle on that nightstand as well.

It was mostly dark in the room now, but the candles were enough for them tonight, scattered light flickering over skin as it was revealed when Cas shrugged his shirt off his shoulders. Dean's smile glinted in the candlelight, too, as he pulled Cas close again, Cas's hands working up underneath the hem of his t-shirt to caress his sides. They continued like that for a while, slowly undressing each other in the dim glow of the candles.

By the time they were both naked, standing up and looking over each other's exposed bodies, they were both very much aroused.

Dean pushed Cas gently onto the bed, looking deep into his eyes as he reached down and gripped both of their cocks in one hand, eliciting a grunting moan from Cas. He pulled Cas into a kiss, whispering soft nothings in his ear every time they broke apart, pumping his hand over both of them tightly, deliciously, agonizingly slowly.

"I love you," Dean whispered for the millionth time. "And I'm going to be in love with you for a very long time."

"We have all the time in the world," Cas responded, groaning as Dean's grip tightened. "I… I can't -" Dean was rendering him speechless with the pressure of both his length on Cas's and his hand squeezing and teasing them both. "I don't wanna come before… ugh, Dean, please, make love to me," he begged, grabbing the back of his neck and kissing him once again, intense, passionate, and deep.

Dean nodded, releasing their erections and moaning at the loss, sliding down to nuzzle and place feather-light kisses on Cas's neck, before sliding down his toned, lithe body to grab the lube off of the nightstand, coating up his fingers liberally before lifting Castiel's legs and circling one around his entrance, teasing it before sliding that finger in ever so slowly.

"Oh, Christ, Dean," Cas keened, pressing his hips downward towards Dean, allowing the finger to slip deeper. Dean rubbed around the sensitive skin of Cas's entrance with a second finger, bringing out the most needy sounds from the smaller man, before pushing in a second finger, much to Cas's satisfaction, as he could tell from the desperate moan. Cas always made the prettiest sounds, soft moans and mewling noises that could drive a man mad with desire.

Dean scissored his two fingers, pressing in and out and then curled them up, rubbing against Cas's little bundle of nerves, driving him to call out Dean's name as his vision clouded over, and this, this was just Dean using his fingers. Dean added a third finger, pressing in and out, and Cas just leaned down, grabbing Dean's wrist and pulling his fingers out.

"Dean. I want you in me. Please," he whispered. He wanted it, needed it so much. He loved Dean more than life itself, and he wanted this almost as much as that.

Dean obliged, ripping open a condom wrapper from the box (that was conveniently kept on the nightstand next to the lube), rolling it on and slathering on some extra lube from the tube, applying it even more generously to Cas as well. The last thing he wanted was to have Cas feel too much pain while he made love to him.

Dean slid inside ever so slowly, and Cas's breath hitched as his eyes squinted shut, breathing deepening and quickening at the undeniable, ever-present stretch that always accompanied having Dean inside him . "Are you okay, baby?" Dean asked quietly, and Cas opened his eyes and bore them into Dean's. Nodding once to signify that it was okay, Cas let out a breathy, gritty noise as Dean sheathed himself all the way in.

"God, babe, you feel so good," Cas mumbled, reaching up to pull Dean in for a kiss. Dean, fully sheathed in Cas's tight heat, kissed him back deeply, pulling out sluggishly and pushing back in at a slow pace. He pressed in all the way once again before pulling out nearly all the way, repeating the process, pressing his body down into Castiel's so that they were flush against one another, gazing into the depths of each other's eyes as if they were looking at stars. Dean pumped himself in and out slowly, utilizing everything he had learned about his lover's body in these past few months to make him keen and scrabble at Dean's back, completely losing himself. They were as one now, a single unit of pleasure, moving and grinding, pressing and pushing, grunting and moaning. It was slow, and satisfying, and absolutely brilliant.

Cas had no idea how long they'd been like that, he himself still fully hard, and Dean had recently taken him into his hand. They'd only recently switched positions, Dean turning them around so that he was pressed into Cas from behind. Cas felt himself approaching the edge as Dean continued to pump into him at their slow, passionate pace, making love to him only the way Dean could, and he grunted out Dean's name as he came, white hot and hard onto the blue silk sheets that had always so brilliantly complimented Cas's eyes.

Dean felt Cas's orgasm clench around him, and he threw his head back as he pushed in two more times before burying himself all the way and tumbling over the edge, grunting out his name as he spilled his seed into the condom. He moaned into Cas's shoulder and peppered him with gentle kisses, never forgetting Cas even as his orgasm nearly drove him completely out of his mind.

He pulled out, removing the condom and throwing it in the trash before moving back to spoon Cas lazily, pulling him in and holding him close.

Cas turned around, wrapping an arm around Dean's waist and looking him in the eyes. "You have no idea how much I've wanted to hear you say that. I… I love you so much."

"I love you too, Cas," Dean replied softly, kissing him gently. "God, I can't believe we've come this far. It's… it's surreal."

"Yeah," Cas agreed, before a thought occurred to him. "Wait, Christmas is in like two weeks! Shit, I have to go shopping."

Dean chuckled. "You know you don't have to get me anything, baby."

Cas glanced at him in a way that made him realize that his statement sounded stupid. "After all this, you telling me you love me, and how much I love you? You're getting a present, now suck it up and deal with it," he joked, moving in to languidly kiss Dean once again.

"Yeah, alright, but you're getting something too," Dean said. He already had something planned, and there was no way in hell he was going to spoil it, so he distracted Cas with more lazy, languid kisses.

They drifted off like that, entwined in each others' arms, caught up in their love and happiness, and let the world and the candle light fade away into blissful rest.

* * *

Cas convinced Dean the next morning to leave a bit earlier for work than they normally had to so that they could stop at Jo's Starbucks for a little longer than usual, seeing as he felt a tiny bit guilty for leaving immediately the way he had the night before after his performance. Still, he didn't think Jo would mind, especially after he explained to her what had happened afterwards, so Dean agreed happily.

With random kisses, hand-holding, and I love yous just for the sake of saying it, they took their time walking, enjoying the crisp early winter air, as it wasn't totally freaking freezing yet. Swinging open the door to Starbucks, they were immediately met with a random round of applause from the baristas on shift, Jo included, as well as a few of the patrons, who had gone to see the show the night before, knowing Castiel from their morning coffee runs. Slightly alarmed, yet amused, Cas simply grinned before walking up to the counter to talk to Jo.

"Jeez, what a welcome," he joked, and Jo just stared at him like he was crazy or something.

"Are you serious? With the way you sang last night? Jesus Christ, you had every one of us balling our eyes out. It was fucking beautiful." Ava murmured her agreement from behind the counter while whipping up someone's frapuccino.

"Thanks guys," Cas murmured, blushing. "I mean, it just meant a lot to me, and it's good to know that it was touching to other people too, and…" he trailed off, turning scarlet. "Sorry I ran out right after though."

Jo winked. "It's okay, Dean had you by the hand, I could tell it was going somewhere." She laughed. "Your usuals then?"

Dean and Cas both nodded, and Jo moved to get them started. "It definitely went somewhere…" Cas mused, looking at Dean, who smirked, leaning over and pecking him on the lips.

"Oh?" Jo inquired, leaning back over the counter, eyes bright and mischievous.

"I'll go get us a table," Dean said in Cas's ear, placing a gentle kiss on his neck. "You can tell her all the gory details."

Cas nodded, looking up at him, blushing slightly. "You sure you don't want to be here? I thought you would want to see the look on her face."

Dean grinned, but he could already imagine it, so he simply kissed Cas once again. "I'll be fine. You're adorable when you blush… I love you."

Dean didn't even get a chance to walk back to his seat before Jo literally fell over.

Thank God she hadn't been holding anything because she was literally splayed out on the floor behind the counter, and Ava and the other barista jumped in alarm, but when Cas erupted in a fit of laughter, they figured it had to be because of something he told her.

"WAIT, HE FINALLY SAID IT?" Jo practically shrieked, getting up and half-leaping over the counter to grab Cas and pull him into a crushing hug. "Ugh Cas I'm so happy for youuu!"

Dean grinned, and Cas waved him off to go get their seat. "So, Jo, what are you and Adam doing for Christmas?" he asked.

"I have no idea, actually, we both spent Thanksgiving with our families so we were gonna stay in the area," Jo called to him as she whipped up their coffees. "You should have a party or something!"

Cas wrinkled his nose. "At our place? Too much planning," he complained.

"No, it'll be fun! Invite Sam and Gabriel, and Meg and that girl you were telling me about who Meg has a crush on. It'll be great." Jo finished their brews and handed him the cups, leaning over the counter to place a peck on both cheeks before turning back to the register as she swiped his card.

"Hmm, I guess…" Cas mused, and wondered if Dean would be okay with it. Jo handed him his card back, and he moved to sit with his boyfriend, lover, and love of his life. Spending Christmas with him was going to be amazing, either way.


	21. All I Want For Christmas Is You

**Chapter Twenty-One: All I Want For Christmas Is You**

It was Christmas Eve, and it was the best one anyone at this party had had in a pretty long while. Dean had made a freaking enormous turkey, and everyone had retired to the living room to fight off the effects of pigging out and tryptophan.

"I can't believe you actually got a tree this year," Sam mumbled at Dean, his head resting in Gabriel's lap. He was feeling the worst of the effects of the turkey - his eyelids were drooping and he kept dozing off.

Of course it didn't help that Gabriel kept petting his hair like he was an overgrown lap dog.

Meg and Charlie were sharing the armchair in the corner, and Charlie had seemed more than a little nervous all throughout Christmas dinner. Cas wondered whether Meg had actually asked her out before inviting her to this party, and figured she hadn't, considering Meg was definitely overcompensating for being insecure over basically everything. Cas hoped for only the best for them as he pressed closer to Dean, who was holding him loosely in his arms.

"I like Christmas trees," Dean muttered petulantly. "Just 'cause we suck at them doesn't mean I can't have one this year."

Decking the tree, admittedly, had been something of a disaster. It had been a while since either of them had decorated a Christmas tree, and Cas almost shuddered to remember how Dean had almost managed to strangle himself with the Christmas lights. It had been terrifying, and they'd decided that next year, they were investing in a pre-lit tree.

Jo and Adam were also at the party, having taken the other armchair for themselves. Jo had draped herself across Adam's lap, and he kept drifting off to sleep as well. Jo took great pleasure in prodding him awake again, though she was pretty sleepy herself.

"So," Meg said, her voice just a hair louder than it ought to be, "I brought bourbon. Does anyone want any?"

A murmur of half-hearted assent floated around the room, and Meg tried to get up. Charlie stopped her with a smile. "Let me handle it. I tended bar all through college."

Charlie left the room to get the bourbon, and Cas saw Gabriel's eyebrow flicker upward and his expression turned measuring for a moment. For all Gabriel liked to play the fool, he was one of the most perceptive people Cas knew, and Cas knew then that Gabriel had pieced together enough.

Of course, that perceptiveness did not come with any sense of tactfulness.

"Somebody's got a girlfriend," he singsonged at Meg, who glared daggers back at him before Charlie came back with a tray of glasses balanced on her shoulder.

"Jesus, Charlie," Jo said, eyes widening. "How the hell did you learn to do that?"

"Secret bartender knowledge. You have to reach level fifteen and multiclass into a bartender-waitress, though," she replied impishly.

Adam blinked. "What?"

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart," Jo said, nudging him. "Charlie's dungeon-babbling again."

"Okay, now neither of you get a drink," Charlie said, joking as she passed the drinks around. True to her word, though, Jo and Adam got theirs last.

Cas shifted so Dean had more space to drink in, but Dean just leaned over to put the drink on the coffee table, briefly distracting Cas from basically everything when his shirt rode up for a moment to reveal a sliver of his back, and pulled Cas into his lap.

"No funny business," Cas warned softly, unable to keep from smiling. "We have company."

Dean just laughed and held him tighter.

Another laugh drew Cas's attention to Meg, who covered her mouth and gestured at Sam and Gabriel, who had both managed to fall asleep.

"Is that...half a dick?" Dean asked, craning his neck to see.

Gabriel had retrieved a marker from somewhere, and had apparently started trying to draw a dick on Sam's face, but only got halfway through before it turned into a looping squiggle and a fading line down off of Sam's cheek. The marker had fallen out of Gabriel's hand when he'd himself fallen asleep, and Cas couldn't help chuckling himself.

Of course, Sam and Gabriel had taken the other end of the couch, so his proximity and his laughter woke Sam, and that only made it funnier.

"Wha' happened?" Sam asked, as soft laughter broke out all across the room.

Dean actually started guffawing at that, shaking with laughter behind Cas.

Sam noticed the marker on the couch next to him. His eyes narrowed, but he sighed resignedly. "He drew a dick on my face, didn't he?"

That was what woke Gabriel. "Half a dick," he grumbled. "Looks like I fell asleep in the middle."

Sam groaned and made to get up, only for Gabriel to yank him back down into something of a tangle of limbs. He kissed him, saying, "Oh, you're staying right here, half a dick on your face or not."

Dean was still laughing, and Jo was practically hysterical in Adam's lap.

Meg, on the other hand, rolled her eyes. "Oh, eww, Gabe."

"Eww yourself, Meggles."

"Don't call me Meggles," she said, practically growling. She almost got up, and Charlie kept her seated again in some way that almost made Meg yelp. Charlie was grinning almost viciously, and from where Cas was, he couldn't see where Charlie's hands were.

Gabriel met Charlie's grin with one of his own, his arms wrapped tight around Sam. "Oh, we are definitely keeping you."

Charlie's smile softened a little, and Meg said, "I think you might have met your match, Gabriel. Charlie here reportedly has a tattoo of a slave Leia straddling a twenty-sided die."

"I was drunk and it was Comic-Con!" Charlie protested, swatting Meg, but the indignation in her voice was mostly feigned. She wrapped an arm briefly around Meg's waist. "And it wasn't like I had a girlfriend to stop me from making stupid life choices..."

Meg turned her face away from the group briefly and said nothing - okay, she was definitely blushing over that comment.

Jo filled the ensuing silence with an enormous yawn and an almost theatrical draining of her glass. She leaned up to kiss Adam gently on the lips, even though he was dozing again. "Hey, sleeping beauty," she said, "It's like, two a.m."

"And as fun as a slumber party would be," Meg said, recovering herself, "We should all probably head home now, leave our hosts with some alone time."

"Oh fuck you," Dean grumbled, almost affectionately.

The party started to break up then; Meg and Charlie first, Meg's hand seeming almost tentative on Charlie's back, and then Jo and Adam, and finally Sam managed to extricate himself from Gabriel's arms so they could go. Gabriel whined about it, mumbling something about the apartment having a guest room, but Sam pulled him up anyway.

"Merry Christmas," Sam said when they all gathered at the door, pulling Dean and Cas each into a separate hug.

"Merry Christmas," each of them replied, Dean wrapping an arm around Cas.

"And what am I, chopped liver?" Gabriel said with an over-the-top pout.

Cas laughed and pulled his cousin into a hug. "Merry Christmas, and thanks."

Dean shook Gabriel's hand and repeated the good wishes, and Sam and Gabriel left the apartment. Soft Christmas music was still filtering in from the kitchen, and Cas hummed along to Mariah Carey, looking at Dean and jumping into his arms and singing loudly along to, "Allllll I wantttt for Christmassss issss YOUUUUUU!"

Dean laughed, spinning Cas around in his arms, leaning him over the counter and nuzzling his neck before pulling him into a gentle, sweet kiss. "Mm, now what do you say we take up Meg's idea of getting some alone time?"

Cas grinned. "Christmas Eve sex? I'm down."

Dean chuckled as he lifted a giggling Cas higher in his arms as he ran full speed down the hallway towards the bedroom.

* * *

Blinding light streamed into the window in the morning, and Cas rolled off of Dean, groaning. It was then that he realized the blinding light was way too white to be sunlight. He shot up out of bed, flinging himself to the window, and saw fresh snow on the ground, still falling from the sky.

He pounced on the bed, shaking Dean awake, peppering him with kisses as he groaned and struggled to get out of his boyfriend's grasp. "Cas, wha...?" he mumbled, and then it was as if a light switch was flicked as he realized what day it was, shooting up to grab his boyfriend and fling him down onto the bed, pressing a deep kiss on his lips. "Merry Christmas, baby," he whispered, and Cas chuckled before pecking his lips gently.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Dean," Cas replied, smiling gently and looking into his boyfriend's eyes before pecking him on the lips quickly and pulling him up. "It's a white Christmas, Dean, it snowed last night!"

Dean allowed Cas to pull him up, beaming. "Awesome." He pulled his boyfriend into his chest from behind, pressing his lips to the back of his neck, making him moan. "Now how about we stay in bed just a little while longer…"

"No, Dean, you don't get Christmas sex until after you take me out to dinner," Cas told him, laughing, but his laugh turned into a groan of need when Dean dipped his head down to suck on the dip of his neck and his shoulder. "D... Dean, stop it..." he said feebly, not even struggling.

"Mhm..." Dean mumbled, keeping his attention on his boyfriend's neck.

"Ugh, Dean, no!" Cas objected, pulling out of his grasp and turning around. "We have a huge day planned, and I don't want to delay any of it. Let's go take a shower and then we can exchange presents and stuff."

"Who says I got you any presents?" Dean asked, grinning cheekily.

"Ha ha," Cas replied, rolling his eyes sarcastically. "Come on, let's take a shower."

"You take a shower first, I have to check on something," Dean told him, and he nodded, tilting his head in that way that Dean loved that represented his curiosity before turning to enter the bathroom. Dean went into the living room, passing the Christmas tree to get to the door of the closet, opening a box at the back on the floor, double checking to make sure that everything was set, and it was. He went into the shower just as Cas was coming out, pecking his boyfriend on the lips as he moved towards the sink to start shaving while Dean washed himself. They wound up finishing shaving at around the same time, due to Castiel's meticulous perfectionist approach when it came to grooming, and Dean looked him in the eye and pecked him on the lips. "It's Christmas, and I love you," he said quietly, pulling his boyfriend closer into his arms.

"I love you too," Cas mumbled, pressing a short kiss on his lips and then burying his head in Dean's shoulder. They stood like that for a little while before Cas grabbed his wrist and half pulled, half dragged him out of the bathroom. "Now come on, I want to give you your present!"

"Don't we need to get dressed first?" Dean said, glancing down at their current state of undress wearing only towels before looking back up at Cas pointedly.

Cas sighed. "Fine, but just pull on sweatpants or something. We're not getting dressed up yet, it's just for presents.

Dean nodded, and it took the both of them about a minute to pull on clothes, and then Cas pulled Dean into the living room, where the presents that were exchanged the previous night sat under the tree, as well as a perfectly wrapped, medium sized box sitting on top of the pile.

"That wasn't there last night," Dean told him, kissing him as he took the box off the pile.

"I know, I snuck out while you were in the bathroom," Cas admitted, smiling.

Dean gripped the box with both hands, shaking it a little, and when no noise came out, he ripped open the wrapping, pulling out a pretty bulky box with a golden crown on it. He recognized the logo, and looked up at Cas, eyes wide. "Cas, is this what I think it is?"

"Open it," Castiel encouraged, and he watched as Dean pulled off the lid and flipped open the box inside to reveal an absolutely gorgeous silver and gold Rolex watch with a sapphire blue face, and he picked it up and turned it over in his hand.

"Jesus, Cas, is this real?"

"I would certainly hope so, with the amount I spent on it," Cas joked, and Dean looked down at it and back up at him in disbelief.

"How… how did you afford this?" he asked in wonder, before starting, looking up at Cas in alarm. "Not that I don't absolutely love it, because I do… it reminds me of your eyes."

Cas smiled. "I may or may not have borrowed Gabriel's black card…" he admitted, looking up at Dean with a sheepish grin.

"Cas, you didn't have to do that!" Dean told him, slipping the watch on his wrist and fastening it, coming closer to him and pulling him into his arms. "I know how much you disliked your family's money and wanted to live without it and everything… why do that for me?"

Cas looked him in the eyes before kissing him gently on the lips. "Because I love you, and I wanted to get you something special. It's… it's more than just a watch. It's a reminder. Remember a few weeks ago, the night you told me you loved me for the first time? You said you'd be in love with me for a really long time, and I told you that we had all the time in the world. That's what this is for. It's a reminder of all the time that we have together left to come, as well as a symbol of how much you mean to me, Dean."

Dean admired the watch again, before pressing their lips together, hard. "I love it. Thank you so much, baby." He kissed him again, before flicking him on the nose, earning an indignant noise from the smaller man. "But don't spend this much money on me anymore!" he chided, and Cas smiled and nodded before kissing him again.

A whiny, high pitched noise that lasted a brief second sounded from inside the closet, though very muffled, and Cas shot straight up. "What the hell was that?"

Dean stood up, holding his hands out to calm Cas down before he moved towards the closet. "Wait two seconds and you'll see." He opened the closet door, going into the back on the floor and taking out the box, very carefully. "Trust me and don't shake this," Dean told Cas, who nodded, his head tilting and a perplexed expression on his face.

He set the wrapped box on Cas's lap, and Cas saw that it was a box with a lid, and handles on the side that were open. He didn't bother looking in the side before he pulled off the lid and looked, only to look up at Dean as his jaw dropped as an expression of shock and amazement came across his face.

The spotted tabby kitten in the box looked up at him with innocent eyes and made a high pitched, keening meow.

"You bought me a kitten?" he said, the little animal below him attempting to climb up the side of the box not quite sinking in yet as he looked up at Dean with tears in his eyes.

Dean grinned. "Yeah, Cas. Do you like her?"

Cas looked down again, reaching into the box to pick up the tiny thing. He looked into the cat's wide, innocent hazel eyes, holding her on his chest, where she gripped his t-shirt with her tiny little claws, mewling and trying to climb higher. He started to tear up as he lifted her and hugged her close to him, chuckling at her squeak of content as she rubbed her head on his arm and chest. "I love her, Dean," he whispered, looking up at his boyfriend with wonder in his eyes, and Dean wanted to capture that moment and keep it forever.

"What do you want to name her?" Dean asked him gently, kneeling beside the couch where Cas was seated to pet the kitten and rub his boyfriend's back lovingly.

Cas looked up from where he was staring down at the cat again. "I get to name her?" he asked quietly. Dean nodded, and Cas looked back at the cat for a long moment. "Eve," he said. "Let's name her Eve."

"Eve it is," Dean said, smiling, and kissed him on the forehead. "I bought a bunch of cat stuff too, litterbox and food and everything, they're in the closet."

Cas set Eve gently down on the couch, where she looked around, perplexed and curious by her surroundings, before Cas jumped on Dean, wrapping his legs around his boyfriend's waist and kissing him fiercely. "I love you so much, thank you," he whispered in Dean's ear.

"I love you too, Cas, Merry Christmas," Dean whispered back, pressing another kiss to his lips.

He stopped for a moment, looking at the cat and then the closet, and back at Cas. "Wait, there was something I didn't think about before…" he mused.

"What?" Cas asked, concerned, pulling his legs off Dean so that they rested on the floor.

"We have a date all day today…" Dean continued.

"Yeah, so?"

"What the hell are we going to do with the cat?"


	22. Skyscraper

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Skyscraper**

Cas sat down, rubbing his temples. They were getting very close to previews, now, and everyone was feeling the crunch. Crowley had nearly killed one of the stagehands, and Cerberus was no longer allowed to come to rehearsals, which didn't help – everyone on the cast and crew loved that dog, even if he hated everyone except Gabriel and Meg.

Speaking of Meg, she was probably the only person in the theatre who didn't look like she was about to fall over and die from stress.

Cas hadn't seen her since Christmas Eve, and he figured that something had to have gone very, very right for her when she and Charlie had headed home that night. Sure, she still was as terrifying to the people who worked under her, but Cas kept catching her fighting back secretive little smiles.

Charlie, for her part, didn't look very much different from Meg, except that she was smiling openly every time she looked at the stage.

Now, everyone was on a fifteen minute break while Crowley bullied someone into getting him coffee, and it seemed like that meant all of Meg and Charlie's pretenses came crashing down. Meg was up in the tech booth, and even from here, Cas could hear Charlie's laughter.

The two of them came back down, and Charlie had her hand in Meg's back pocket, saying, "And then, you know, I was in my Pizza John shirt, so this guy walks up to me and starts serenading me with 'Strange Charm,' just out of the blue, and I had to explain that, no, I'm only into girls, sorry. In front of this whole big group of Nerdfighters, who all just started applauding me. It was great."

And then Meg did the most curious thing – she laughed. Like, completely legitimate, sweet laughter that could probably have destroyed all of Meg's credibility as one of the two most terrifying people here.

Cas couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that – and make a comment as the two women passed him. "Wow, Meg. You should laugh more."

"I agree," Charlie said, nuzzling into Meg's jaw.

Meg rolled her eyes. "I'm supposed to be the scary one. It's how I rule over my minions."

"Still, the point stands. You're not always at work," Charlie said, grinning.

Cas smiled, feeling a little bit less stressed out, now, and decided to go back backstage, so as to give the two women a little bit of privacy. He knew what it felt like, having to snatch a few moments here or there with Dean on the longer days when everything was getting tense.

"Hey, boyo," Charlie said as he started walking, "You're not going anywhere. It's a mess back there. I think your cousin broke that door again. Give the place a wide berth for now, hm?"

Cas raised an eyebrow again. "Oh?"

Charlie tapped her headset. "Eyes in the sky, that's me."

"And damn good at it, too," Meg said, swatting at Charlie's shoulder. "Besides, I'm pretty sure my stagehands are about to start a civil war against the pit orchestra thanks to Gabriel."

Cas shook his head. "Crowley's going to kill him before we even make it to the regular run."

"He better not," Meg grumbled. "I wouldn't have anyone to blame when shit goes wrong."

Cas smiled and shook his head, but let himself be drawn into their conversation.

Eventually, though, break ended, and Crowley came stomping back into the theater – except the stomping was a lot more dignified than Cas could have imagined stomping to be.

Well, that didn't look promising at all, and Cas sighed, feeling all of the tension returning to him with something of a vengeance. Crowley did not look happy, and that was basically a portent of doom for the entire cast and crew.

"Oh, shit is gonna hit the fan," Charlie said softly.

And she was right. For the next two hours, Crowley ran the most exhausting dance numbers and the most complicated scene changes over and over again until the cast was panting with exhaustion, the pit's lips and fingers were numb, and the crew felt ashamed of themselves.

"Dean, get a handle on this!" Crowley roared from the audience as the biggest scene change failed to happen in the allotted time from the music for the fourth time. "I'm not putting in another bloody vamp because your crew isn't fast enough!"

"Working on it!" Dean yelled back from stage right, hissing his headset angrily.

This continued for another hour, running various things until they were either perfect or so bad that they were skipped for the moment, until Crowley deemed it a lost cause and dismissed everyone before storming out angrily. He was a great director, but every director has their days, and he just happened to be impatient, but it wore down on both Dean and Castiel to the point where they barely talked on the way home.

When Dean opened the apartment door, Cas walked straight in and to the bedroom, flopping down on the bed and groaning. Dean came in quietly, sitting next to him and reaching for his back to rub it soothingly. Cas pulled away with an aggravated mumble, and Dean looked at him with concern.

"You okay, baby?" he asked gently, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine, Dean," Cas said, annoyed, yanking his shoulder away from Dean's hand and turning over.

If Cas were still looking at him, he would have seen the hurt expression on his face as Dean got up and just walked into the bathroom without saying a word, turning on the shower. Cas knew he lashed out and Dean didn't deserve it, so he just curled up a little tighter around himself and tried to ignore his feeling of guilt. When Dean came out of the shower, he dressed in pajamas, but went out into the living room and away from Cas.

Cas got up to follow after he didn't come back for awhile to see him sitting and watching TV, looking a little bit moody. "Look, Dean, I'm sorry, I'm just a raw nerve after rehearsal today."

Dean didn't even bother looking up at him. "Yeah, so am I, but I would never take it out on you."

That stung a little bit. "So what, you're saying I'm a bad boyfriend because I lashed out?" he asks indignantly. "It happens, Dean. People get pissed off and they react badly to things."

Dean looked up at him at that, expression disbelieving. "Where the hell did that come from? I don't think you're a bad boyfriend!" he protested.

"Could've fooled me," Cas shot back, and Dean stood up, turning away from him and running his hands through his hair in exasperation.

"Cas, what the hell has gotten into you?" he asked. "You've been high strung, stressed out, and worn thin even before Crowley started cracking down on us. Talk to me." The last sentence came out pleadingly, and Cas had to bite his lip to resist the look in Dean's eyes.

"What I don't want to talk about everything?" Cas asked, aggravated. "What if I just want to keep some things to myself and not talk about them? Why does that bother you? Why can't you just leave me the hell alone sometimes, Dean?" By his last question, venom was in his voice, and he saw the expression of disbelief and hurt flicker across Dean's face before it was instantly replaced by a hardened glare.

"Fine then, Cas, I can leave you the hell alone," Dean hissed, coming closer to look into his eyes. "I guess everything I've done for you and helped you get through means nothing, then? You'll just keep things from me? I thought we promised, no secrets!"

"Yeah, well maybe I should have thought about that a little bit further before promising," Castiel spat.

Dean clenched his fists in anger before turning around and walking away from him in frustration. "Dammit Cas, let me help you!" he yelled, facing his boyfriend again.

Cas visibly flinched. He couldn't let Dean help him. Because if he did, Dean would soon realize the same things, and then he would break up with him, and Cas would be left with nothing. And if he had to lash out to prevent that from happening, then that was what he would have to do. "I don't want your help," he hissed, turning on his heel and stalking back to the bedroom.

"You're not getting away that easily!" Dean called after him, pushing open the door before Cas could completely shut it and looking him in the eyes. "Dammit, Cas, I don't know what's going on because you won't tell me what's going on, but whatever it is, we can get through it together, Cas!" Castiel could tell that Dean was taking a different approach; rather than being angry he was simply appealing to the better part of their relationship and making Cas remember the things they'd gotten through before. He tried to turn his head away, but Dean was persistent, following it so that he held his gaze. "Whatever it is, no matter what, I swear to you I will not judge you, and I will not make light of your situation, and I will help you get through it because I love you, you son of a bitch."

Cas teared up at that moment, clenching his fists and trying to be angry, grabbing Dean's shirt and trying to shove him backwards, but he wound up twisting his hands in the fabric, pulling Dean closer as his knees gave out from under him and he leaned into Dean, sobbing into his shirt. "I don't want you to leave me," he gasped out, the tears flowing freely from his eyes as Dean wrapped his arms around him and held him close.

"Shh, Cas, it's okay, I'm not going to leave you," he whispered, holding him tightly and guiding him over to the bed. "Whatever it is, I'm not going to leave you. I swear. I never will. I love you too damn much." Dean's own voice cracked as he says this, and Cas looked up at him with his tear-streaked face.

"It's all my fault," he choked out, before the tears overtook him again.

"What? Baby, what's your fault?" Dean asked, trying to get it out of him so that he could help him through it.

Cas looked up at him, eyes disbelieving. "Are you serious, Dean?" he asked. "Balthazar is dead because of me, and Raphael now too, because he came after me, and he was here for his own murder. I… I'm responsible for the death of two people, one of whom I used to love… well, thought I loved, but that doesn't matter. They're both dead, Dean. What about their family? How are they supposed to deal with all this? Balthazar killed himself because I couldn't give him what he wanted, couldn't give him a second chance. He… killed himself because he loved me too much to live on without me."

Dean himself teared up as Cas collapsed on his lap on the bed, burying his face in the bottom of Dean's shirt. Dean simply held him close, shushing him and telling him that everything would be okay before pushing him back up. "Look at me," he ordered gently, and Cas obliged, blinking to get a tear out of his eye before gazing at Dean. "None of this, I repeat, none of this, is your fault, Cas." He saw Cas starting to protest, so he put a finger to his lips gently, and Cas stopped to listen. "There was no way you could have known that Balthazar would change, and who knows if he even did? You did the right thing for yourself by leaving him, and he was sick, Cas. It's not your fault or his that he was in such a terrible place. As for his brother, he went absolute psychopath on you and there is no excuse for that. All of this happened to you and it's absolutely horrible, and it wrenches my heart to see you so God damn broken about it. Baby…" he trails off, tilting Cas's head up. "You don't have to push me away. I'll never think it's your fault, and I'll never leave you because of it. You have my word. I… I love you so much, baby," he whispers, bringing their lips together for a gentle, comforting kiss. "No matter who hurts you," Dean continued, "no matter who tries to tear you down, I will be there to keep you standing. I won't let you fall."

Cas looked up at him and his tears spilled out from his eyes once again. He was so lucky. He was so God damn lucky to have found his one true soul mate on the face of the earth in Dean Winchester. "I love you so much," he chokes out, pulling his face away from Dean's to curl up in his lap and press his head into his chest.

When Dean had him lay down on the bed to be more comfortable, Cas felt like he would help him make it all better.

When Dean kissed him, Cas felt like he was putting the pieces back together one by one.

When Dean made love to him, he made Cas forget.

And when Dean curled around him afterwards, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as he drifted off, Cas knew that he would never fall. And if he did, Dean would be there to catch him.


	23. I Have Nothing

**Chapter Twenty-Three: I Have Nothing**

Cas rubbed his temples, sitting down backstage. The first preview had already happened, and the stress just wasn't letting up. The acclaim and reviews were mostly positive, but from the input of the various producers and investors in the show, there were still things that needed tweaking, and with the next preview in two days, the pressure was on. For every good thing that seemed to be happening, a dozen things went wrong. It was definitely a strain on everyone - and neither Dean nor Cas himself was an exception to that.

They had hardly even enjoyed playing with Eve these past few days, and hadn't had sex in almost a week, both too tired at night to do anything but fall into bed and sleep. And after the fight they'd had recently, Cas couldn't help but worry.

Especially then, considering Dean had retreated into brooding silences and moments of inexplicable tension that had nothing to do with work, considering they were most common during the lulls between work and home, or right before bed.

Dean was currently in the middle of one, leaning against a wall on his break from the crew room, arms crossed across his chest. He looked upset, and Cas had had enough of it.

"Something wrong?" he called over, heaving himself to his feet. They had about ten minutes left in this break, but there was little else to do before then - and he had to admit he was curious as to what had driven Dean into this strange funk he was in.

"Nothing," Dean replied, voice halfway between a grumble and a growl. He tilted his head back against the wall, baring his throat.

Normally, that kind of posturing would turn Cas on like nothing else, but he was just so fucking tired, too tired to even protest the fact that he was obviously being lied to. He just shook his head. "Whatever," he muttered, turning sideways and leaning against the wall.

This was officially what could be called a bad day.

And it wasn't even that things were going particularly badly with the show, either; Crowley hadn't threatened to murder anyone, and Meg had only screamed at her stagehands twice. Things were going well, but they just had such little time before the next preview that squishing everything in was quite difficult. Everyone was operating at top speed, to the point where nobody had time to argue, protest, or involve themselves with anything other than what needed to happen. They were flowing well as a cohesive unit, but all of the individual parts were stressed and strained to the point of exhaustion.

Unable to stand in the same hallway as Dean without contact, Cas turned off his cold shoulder approach to Dean's obvious stress and walked over to him, wrapping his arms around his waist and looking up at him. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Dean looked down at him and patted him on the back awkwardly. "I know," he responded, sounding miles away.

Cas flinched at that and removed himself. Dean had never really shaken him off when his attention was unwanted, and had never even gotten to the point of not returning an embrace if given. It bothered him. "Alright, Dean, enough with the role reversal. You helped me through everything that I needed helping through and now it's your turn. Just tell me what it is that's bothering you."

Dean grit his teeth, smacking his hands backward against the wall open-palmed, creating a loud noise that made Castiel jump. "Dammit, Cas, not now."

"Then when?" Cas asked in response, shoving off the startling feeling he got from Dean's wall smack. "You've been distant for almost two weeks. I thought that after everything that had happened that it would make us stronger and it did, but then you just… detached. Please, Dean, tell me what's going on."

"Later," he growled, pushing himself off the wall and in the direction of the crew room.

"It's always later, Dean!" Cas called after him, and Dean rounded on him with an angry expression on his face.

"God dammit, Cas, just leave me the hell alone!" he yelled back, storming off, and Cas shrunk down to sit against the wall, head in his hands as he pulled at his hair in frustration. He didn't notice a certain redhead seeing the tail end of their argument until she approached.

"Hey, you okay?" Charlie asked, sitting down next to him and placing a hand on his shoulders.

Cas didn't want to deal with anything or anyone right then, but he looked up at her concerned face and softened a little bit. "Yeah, Charlie, I'll be fine… Thanks."

She shrugged. "It's getting to everyone, you know. Meg and I have hardly been speaking, and we just started dating, so we should be. It's just the high pressure. It'll all diffuse soon."

"It's more than just that, though," Cas admitted. "There's something else going on, and he just won't tell me…"

"It'll happen sooner or later," Charlie told him comfortingly. "I see the way he looks at you, well, before recently, anyways. He's not going to be able to keep his walls up around you long. You'll break through, and probably soon. He's wearing thin."

Cas tilted his head, bemused and fascinated by Charlie's ability to read people so well. "I don't know how you do that, but I really appreciate it. You're… you're something else, Charlie. Tell Meg that she has a keeper."

Charlie grinned before winking. "Trust me, Cas, she knows it." They laughed, and Charlie stood up, helping him to his feet. "Break's about over, so go do your job and then give Dean hell later for me."

"You got it," Cas said, and smiled at her before hugging her and running back onto the stage.

He couldn't possibly have known that hell was probably the most applicable word for what would happen later.

* * *

Cas rounded on Dean the moment they stepped into their apartment that night after rehearsal. "Okay, look, I'm not going to be pushy or argumentative. I just… I just want to know why you won't talk to me." He tried to stay calm and collected and not let his stress and worry get to him, but he knew by the time Dean shut and locked the door and remained looking completely away from him with tensed shoulders that the talk was probably not going to go the way he might want it to.

"What do you want me to say, Cas?" Dean asked, dropping his shoulders in sheer aggravation, moving past him to sit on the couch.

Cas's expression was one of confusion, frustration, and disbelief. "Are you serious, Dean? I want you to tell me what the hell is going on with you!"

"Nothing's going on!" Dean replied, raising his voice a little bit. "And the fact that you keep nosing your way in keeps driving me God damn crazy!"

"Oh really? That implies there's something for me to nose my way into, Dean," Cas retorted, gathering himself enough to sit on the couch next to him. "I just want you to open up to me like I did for you. I can help you through whatever it is just like you helped me."

"Did it ever for one fraction of a second occur to you that I don't want your help?" Dean asked, pulling away from Cas's embrace and standing up, walking towards the kitchen, gripping his head in his hands.

Cas was indignant at his anger and refusal to be civil. "Oh so what, I can't even touch you now, is that it?" he asked, standing up and getting closer to Dean.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Dean asked, frustrated.

"We haven't had sex in over a week, and don't tell me it's just because of work. You've been pushing me away and I really don't like it."

Dean slammed his hands down on the countertop, making a loud bang that caused Cas to flinch away from him in shock involuntarily. "God dammit, Cas, just leave me the fuck alone and let me deal with this on my own!" he shouted, and paused when he saw the frightened expression on Cas's face. "What?" he asked angrily.

Cas shrunk back from him, walking over to the couch and placing his head in his hands. "I shouldn't have gotten scared like that..." he said quietly, and Dean walked over from the kitchen a little bit so as to still hear him. "I... Balthazar used to slam things... right before he hit me." He finished in a whisper, staring out in front of him in memory.

Dean knew that he should have stopped right at that moment, should have gathered his half broken man into his arms and apologized profusely then and there, but he didn't have it in him with the turmoil of his own mind. Instead, his mind did the only other thing it could do - take it personally. "What, are you telling me I'm going to turn into him? That I'm going to do the things he did to you? That I would disregard how much I love you and hit you? That's a new low, Cas. Even for you."

His words were biting, bitter and they made Castiel feel ice cold inside. "No, I'm not at all saying that, Dean!" he yelled, gripping his hair with two hands. "You just scared me! Jesus Christ, I think the God damn world of you and you know it so stop all this and let me in!"

"I don't want you in," Dean protested in a quiet voice.

"Well that's too damn bad, now isn't it?" Cas retorted. He stood up off the couch, storming over to Dean and grabbing him into a hard, needy kiss.

Dean started to respond, when all of a sudden he yanked himself away. "Get off me!"

Cas just stood there stock still as Dean yelled that, pulling away from him, and his eyes filled with tears. "You've never done that to me before," he whispered. "So what, you want me gone then? You don't want to let me in, so I should just leave then, right?"

Dean stopped, shaking his head angrily and looking down at the floor. "No. God, no. I... I'm just not ready, Cas. And I need you to respect that."

"Why push me away?" Cas asked, one tear streaming over his face. "If you keep this up you're going to push me right out the door, Dean."

Dean shook his head again, seemingly angry and desperate all at the same time. "I don't want that."

"Why not?" Cas asked, walking up close to him, their faces inches apart. "If I'm that important to you then why can't you let me in? Why not just let me go then?"

"Because I have NOTHING without you, Cas!" Dean yelled, balling his fists. "You're all I have. I'm just not... I can't face this yet."

"Don't make me walk out, Dean," Cas whispered. "Because if I do, I don't know if I'll come back."

Dean simply stood there as if he were contemplating, and that was enough.

"I see." Cas felt it tearing through him like a thousand tiny bullets shredding him all at once. "If that's what you want," he whispered, turning around and grabbing his jacket, walking out the apartment door and slamming it shut, ignoring Dean's call of his name in protest.

This was it, this had to be what Dean wanted, because otherwise, he wouldn't have kept pushing him away. Cas ignored the tears flowing from his eyes and stemmed the sobs as he walked down the stairs.

As soon as Cas shut the door, Dean couldn't hold back anymore and broke down, falling onto the bed in a fit of frustrated tears.

Ten minutes later, Cas was knocking on Jo's door, and when she opened it, she immediately ushered him in and pulled him into a long hug without saying anything. "I'm sorry," Cas sobbed into her shoulder. "It's late."

Jo pulled away to look into his tearing eyes. "Hey, don't even say that. You know I'm here for you 24/7. What the hell happened?"

"I… I had a fight with Dean," he whispered, tears welling up again as Jo pulled him into a long, tight hug.

"Oh, Cas, it happens! I know that you guys have been in your honeymoon phase since you started dating but this had to happen sooner or later. It's better for you to get it out of your system now rather than have everything build up and make it worse."

"You don't understand," Cas told her, pulling away. "Me and Dean just don't fight. The one time we fought was a few weeks ago because I needed help getting over my feelings about Balthazar's suicide and Raphael's death, and now Dean's pushing me away because there's something he's not telling me. If both of us were okay we'd be completely happy despite all the stress we're under. He just… he won't let me in."

"Give him time, Cas," Jo told him softly. "You'll get there. He's not going to let you go. He probably didn't even want you to leave tonight."

"Can I stay here tonight?" Cas asked quietly, and she nodded, motioning to the couch. He sighed, giving her another hug before collapsing in exhaustion from the rough day of work and then his fight with Dean. He only hoped that Dean would let him in soon, because until then, it would be difficult for the both of them.


	24. Battlefield

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Battlefield**

They were only a couple of weeks away from the main run, and Cas was miserable. Dean still wasn't speaking to him, and it was Hell. Cas curled in on himself during break until he heard a familiar voice yell, "What the hell was that, Gabe."

Cas groaned. Not Sam and Gabriel, too…

Curiosity won out, though, and he went backstage to eavesdrop.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gabriel was replying, looking honestly confused by how angry Sam was. And Sam was angry – Cas didn't think he'd ever seen Sam that aggravated.

Sam shook his head, hair flapping around his face. "Don't even try to say that, you asshole," he said.

"Oh, really, now I'm supposed to be a  _mind reader_?"

"Fuck you."

"If there's something pissing you off, Samuel,  _use your words_  and  _tell me_." Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing. "And here I thought I got the Winchester who wasn't emotionally constipated."

"Oh, I don't know, maybe I'm pissed off because you were flirting with that  _girl_  over there?"

"That girl" was Maggie Zeddmore, one of the people under Meg's purview. Cas supposed she was pretty, but, mostly, Gabriel was just being Gabriel by flirting with her.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Seriously?" he said. "We've been going out for two months, Samsquatch."

"Don't call me that when I'm pissed off at you," Sam warned, and Cas could see tension written in every slope and line of his body. This was bad. Very bad. As a rule, Sam didn't get angry – he was one of the most laid-back people Cas had ever met (sometimes it made him wonder why Sam would be trying to get a degree in a field as stressful as law.). "And what's that supposed to mean? You testing the waters for when you decide I'm not good enough?"

Oh dear.

It looked like Sam had a minor case of the same low self-esteem that Dean did.  
Cas willed Gabriel to understand what was going on in Sam's head right now –  _please let him speak Winchester, please_  – and watched what happened next.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Sammy?"

"Don't call me Sammy." Sam's voice had gone dangerously soft.

"I'll call you whatever the fuck I want if you're going to be a jealous ass about us!" Gabriel shouted. "Jesus, sometimes, I really do wonder why I bother with you."

Cas closed his eyes.  _Wrong thing to say._

And by God, it was. Sam went completely still. "That's it then."

Gabriel really seemed not to be able to tell what was going on, and Cas wanted to smack him. Instead of stopping where he was and comforting Sam, the way he was supposed to, he continued. "I mean, come on, you're jealous, you're easily upset, you're obsessively punctual and get your panties in a twist over the tiniest things, and for all that might make you an awesome law student and an awesome set builder, it sure as hell doesn't make you a very good boyfriend. Hell, I had to fight you every step of the way just to get you to date me in the first place!"

The situation was quickly, and loudly, deteriorating. Cas glanced around and saw that a crowd was gathering around the argument.

Sam's fists clenched. "You fucking asshole," he said, voice almost stony.

Then he turned around and stalked off, cutting through the gathering crown like Moses through the Red Sea. In the wake of him, there was silence, and Gabriel finally seemed to realize that there were other people around. He glared at them, and they scattered, except for Cas.

"What the hell was that?" he asked. "What the hell was that?"

"Don't," Gabriel warned, and, seriously? Cas was getting damn sick of being told not to do things.

"Oh, I will," he said, quietly. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"

"Enlighten me," Gabriel drawled.

"Five to curtain!" came Crowley's voice - which, given the situation, had never been more like the voice of Death himself - from the audience. "Places, everyone."

Gabriel growled and walked off, down into the pit. Cas watched him go before finding his own place, shaking his head. He had no idea why everyone seemed to be fighting. It had to be the stress of leading up to the show – it had to be.

* * *

Lucifer had finally taken Michael up on his offer to watch a rehearsal, and he was glad he'd chosen this particular day to visit his world of bright lights and confusion.

He could practically taste the tension and discord in the air. And he loved it.

When he heard the commotion backstage – obviously a breakup was in progress, there was no other reason for a couple to have that big of a blowout without an end to the relationship on the horizon – he smiled.

His smile widened when he saw half of the couple, a tall, gorgeously built man who walked with a feral sort of purpose. Lucifer smiled to himself – this was exactly the type he went after. Tall, well-muscled, and look at those cheekbones, especially when he had that much rage in his face…Mmm, yes.

Lucifer got up out of his seat, smiling slantedly at Michael, and followed the guy backstage.

The theatre was full of long, winding corridors, and it seemed like this guy was going to be trying to walk off his tension. Lucifer could easily come up with a dozen other ways to calm him down, and at least three of them involved a wall and no lube.

Lucifer caught up to him easily, gait casual, hands in his pockets. "Gotta say you were more of a showstopper than any of the actors. You get mad like that often?"

"No," he said shortly, speeding up.

"What's your name?" Lucifer asked, falling back on courtesy for a brief moment.

"Sam."

"Well, Sam, as I was saying, that fight you were having with your boyfriend ought to have been on stage. Better than the acting, I'd say." He sped up, matching Sam stride for stride.

Sam finally took a good look at him, eyes narrowed. "And who the hell are you?"

"Call me Luke, all my friends do," Lucifer said, smiling easily. It wasn't precisely a lie; he didn't have any friends.

Sam seemed doubtful, but simply looked away and kept walking.

Looked like he'd be a challenge then - and there was nothing Lucifer liked more than a good challenge. No matter if it were the sexual kind or the work kind, though usually only the sexual kind led to orgasms.

"So what was that about?" he asked smoothly. "Cheating lover?"

Sam stiffened, as if the idea hadn't even occurred to him. Lucifer had to bite back a smirk. Judging from the faint accent, this was probably a naïve, corn-fed country boy to whom even the idea of infidelity was scandalous. "He's a cocktease."

Lucifer had to raise his eyebrows at that. Strike naïve from the list, then. All the better, really.

"Cocktease, hm?" he said in reply. "I've known my fair share of those."

Sam wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Not something I needed to know."

"Maybe not yet," Lucifer replied, letting a smirk slip past his lips and into his voice. "But I guarantee it'll cross your mind soon enough."

Sam turned toward him, stopping in his tracks. "Are you hitting on me?"

"Give the man a prize," he responded dryly.

Sam took a step back. "Are you really sure that this is the best time to do this? I have a job to get back to, dude."

Lucifer smirked. "You look like you need a little break."

"Somehow, I think your idea of 'a little break' involves a lot more lube than mine does," Sam said, turning around to head back toward the main parts of the theater.

Oh, no, that wouldn't do at all.

"Not much more," he whispered, coming up behind him to whisper in his ear.

Sam stopped dead in his tracks again. "And what in the world makes you think I'd be interested in your kind of little break, anyway?"

"I'm hot, you're hot, you're looking for a way to let out all of that rage..."

"Think you might be overestimating anger, and my propensity for infidelity," Sam replied, a look of disgust passing over his face.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. After that blowout, I can't see your relationship lasting much longer." He slid around in front of Sam again, still well within his personal space. "I can see you seething under there, Sammy."

"Don't call me Sammy," Sam said, dangerously soft.

"Fine," Lucifer said, raising his hands in an "I surrender" fashion briefly. "No calling you Sammy. But my point still stands. You'd be denying it by now if it didn't."

Sam tensed. "I don't think it's a good idea to say something like that to someone you want to have sex with."

"I tell it like it is. No games, Sam, no tricks, unlike some people."

That was a completely unsubstantiated hit to Sam's (soon-to-be-ex) boyfriend's moral character, but Sam fell for it like a ton of bricks, just as planned. The guy tensed up even tighter on the word "tricks," like it meant something. All the better.

"You should probably leave me alone," Sam said quietly.

"I do a lot of things I probably shouldn't," Lucifer said, just as quiet, but infinitely more sticky-sweet. He reached out and laid a hand on Sam's shoulder, half a caress.

Sam shrugged him off. "Maybe I should've been more clear. Get away from me."

"Sorry, Sam, but I'm not sure I want to do that." Lucifer stepped a little closer, sliding his hand to the crook of Sam's elbow, his grip meant to come across as velvet over steel.

"Sometimes we have to do shit we don't want to do." Sam said roughly, trying to pull away.

Lucifer didn't let him. "Like teach lessons to boyfriends with wandering eyes?"

"I'm not sinking to that level."

"But it's nice down here." Lucifer pulled Sam a little closer, his other hand clamping his shoulder. "You'd like it, promise."

"Go to Hell," Sam growled.

Lucifer grinned and leaned in close, lips brushing Sam's ear as he whispered,

"And when I get there, I'll start a coup and run the place. Want to come along?"

Sam twisted his face into a pretty damn impressive expression of disgust. "No thanks."

"I can make it so good. I can pick you apart and put you back together - but you might like being disassembled best," Lucifer said, licking down Sam's neck.

"Get the fuck off of me," Sam said, bodily throwing Lucifer aside, into the wall, and stalking off.

Lucifer watched him go, face split into a grin like a knife. He'd gotten a reaction out of Sammy-boy, it seemed.

It was only a matter of time until he gave in.

Lucifer took pride in never tricking anyone into bed with him, never lying (except by omission), but always getting a "yes" when he put his mind to it.

Sam would be no exception, he was sure.

* * *

Sam shuddered as he left that Luke guy in the labyrinthine back hallways of the theater and walked out into the cold winter air. He'd prefer a cold shower, but fuck, the air would do in a pinch.

He leaned against the wall and put a hand to his neck, trying to clean off the memory of the other guy's tongue. Sam had no fucking idea why "Luke" - if that was even actually his name - was so interested in him. All he'd done was get angry (and for good reason).

Speaking of angry, he still was, in spades. It seethed underneath the vague layer of "ick" that was left over from his interaction with "Luke."

Why the hell would Gabriel say what he'd said?

He was right, sure - Gabriel had the infuriating tendency to always be right, especially concerning their relationship - but that didn't make it any easier to hear.

I really do wonder why I bother with you. The words rang in his head in the heavy silence of a New York City snow day, and they killed him. He'd been wondering the same thing from the first "date" at the diner.

He shook his head. He had work to do. This show had to go on, after all, and Meg would be fit to kill him if he didn't get back to work soon.

He walked back inside, crossing the backstage areas to reach the crew areas.

He briefly considered telling Dean or Cas about what had happened, until he saw the way Cas looked totally miserable and Dean was wrapped up so tight inside his own issues that Sam didn't want to disturb him.

They had their own problems. They didn't need to tackle his, too.

* * *

That night in the apartment was like living through the Cuban Missile Crisis, Cas decided. Stressful, too-quiet, and always teetering on the edge of mutually-assured destruction.

He and Dean literally hadn't said a word to each other all day, managing to avoid each other at work through no particular effort on either of their parts, and then they seemed to have nothing to say to each other at home.

He sighed, pulling on a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He hated this, beyond everything else. Stress, he could deal with. Silence, he could deal with.

But this? This was going to kill him.

But it wasn't as though there was anything he could do, even. Dean wouldn't open up to him, wouldn't even let him try to help.

And Cas didn't have the energy to fight him anymore.

So he just slipped under the covers on his side of the bed. Dean was still in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, but when he did come to bed, he left a good six inches between them.

Cas turned away and fell into a fitful sleep.


	25. Wouldn't Change A Thing

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Wouldn't Change A Thing**

Sam sort of floated into metaphorical orbit around Dean and Cas as they left rehearsal one night a few days later. Cas watched him, not really sure what to say.

It was a little unnerving that since the fight backstage, not once had Sam brought it up in conversation. Cas wondered if there was anything he could do to help - he couldn't be sure if Sam would react to the offer of a listening ear and a little advice; after all, his current fight with Dean was all about opening up, and Dean and Sam sometimes seemed like two sides of the same coin.

Sam kept looking like his heart was breaking, though, and that killed Cas a little every time he looked at him. His hands hung limply at his sides as he walked half a pace back at Dean's left shoulder.

"Sam," he finally said, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. "Do you want to come inside for coffee?"

Dean looked at him, eyes widening a little. Cas half-shrugged in his direction and turned his attention back to Sam, who smiled sadly. "Uh, sure. Dean?"

"Coffee's good," Dean said, turning to Sam. "And while we're at it, you can tell us what the hell happened with Gabriel a few days back." Cas couldn't see Dean's facial expression, but he could see Sam's reaction: the way his jaw tightened and his shoulders hunched as if struck. "Am I gonna have to hurt him?"

Sam shook his head sharply. "Dean, please don't. It was bound to happen eventually."

"Sam," Cas said quietly, "do you want to talk about it?"

"You saw what happened. And it's not like anything changed since then." Sam turned away a little. "Because of course he's right. About all of it."

Dean took a half-step toward Sam. "What the hell happened, Sam?"

"We should go inside. Coffee, remember?" Cas suggested, reaching out to tug at Dean's arm. "We shouldn't just be standing out in the cold like this; it won't solve anything."

Sam nodded, and Dean turned back toward Cas. Cas was warmed, just a little, by the way the stony facade in Dean's eyes was cracking open, but he shoved the feeling aside - this was about Sam, after all. Anything else could come later.

They walked inside in silence, Cas keeping a careful eye on both Winchesters' body language as the went up to the apartment. Sam seemed to be trying to push past his pain, and Dean's jaw was tense.

Cas followed Dean into the kitchen when they were inside, Sam breaking off to go sit on the couch in the den. Dean started making the coffee, but paused. "What happened?" he asked, turning to Cas with a sober expression. "Sam doesn't get like this over just anybody, Cas."

"Sam saw Gabriel flirting with one of Meg's stagehands. It's just the way Gabriel is. I suppose that with all the stress lately, Sam took it as more than that." Cas leaned his hip against the counter, crossing his arms. "They got into an argument, and, well... Sam insinuated that Gabriel would leave him someday. That he wasn't good enough. Gabriel didn't seem to take the hint, so he wound up listing Sam's faults, and Sam stormed off, upset."

Dean stayed quiet for a long moment, jaw muscles working as he finished making the coffee. "Do I need to break Gabriel's hands with a shovel?" he asked, a little more harshly than entirely necessary.

"Don't do that," Sam said from the den. "Crowley'd kill you."

Dean finished the coffee, and he and Cas moved into the den. Cas looked at Sam, at the way he was almost curled in on himself. He looked miserable, frankly.

"To be honest, Sammy, I'm not sure I care about what Crowley'd do," Dean said seriously. "'Cause it sounds to me like Gabe pulled a dick move on you for a mistake you made 'cause you were stressed." He handed Sam his coffee.

Sam shook his head. "It doesn't make any of the things he said any less true, Dean."

"Do you want me to talk to him?" Cas asked quietly. "It's obviously all just a big misunderstanding."

"What if it's not, Cas?" Sam shot back. "I mean, I am jealous and easily irritated and everything else that he said. I wouldn't blame him if he decided I wasn't worth the effort."

"He'd be kicking himself if he could hear you now, Sam," Cas said, taking a sip from his mug.

Sam laughed bitterly.

"I should at least fucking punch him in the face," Dean muttered.

"Dean," Cas murmured back reprovingly, swatting Dean's knee before turning his attention back to Sam. "Sam, Gabriel's head-over-heels about you. I've never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you. He'd never do anything on purpose to ruin that."

"Then why the fuck did he say what he said?"

"He's never been very good at arguing. When he's upset, he generally does one of two things - he runs away, or he says something stupid." Cas smiled. "He was being stupid. Again, I'll knock some sense into him if you'd like me to."

Sam shook his head. "No, I...I should talk to him myself."

Cas nodded.

Sam tilted his head after taking a sip of his coffee. "What about you two? You guys have been tense these last few days. Is everything okay?"

"We're fine," Dean said, but Cas gave him a sideways look.

Sam seemed to just let it go at that, and they all finished their coffees in companionable quiet. Then Sam got up to go, looking much lighter than he had in days.

Cas smiled as he left, but the smile slipped off his face as the door closed behind him. He could only wish that Dean had been right when he'd told Sam they were fine. The silence in the apartment had been almost unbearable in the past couple of days.

He moved to go get ready for bed, but Dean caught him by the hand. He looked up to meet his eyes, confused, only to find something softer in Dean's eyes than there had been since before their fight.

"Look," Dean said quietly. "I've been an ass."

Cas wasn't sure how to respond to that - after all, Dean wasn't exactly wrong.

"I've been an ass, and I've been pushing you away, and I shouldn't have been." Dean squeezed Cas's hand. "I... the thing is, this one thing... I can't talk about it yet. I just can't. It's too big." He paused. "But it didn't give me any excuse to act like that to you. It had nothing to do with you - it was years ago."

Cas nodded. "Okay." He took a step closer, back into Dean's space.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Dean said, reaching out almost tentatively to cup Cas's cheek. "Dammit, I really am."

"I know," Cas said, leaning into the touch. "Just know that, whatever it is that happened to you, I'm not going to judge you for it. It's in the past."

Dean closed his eyes, tipping his head down. "I know. God, what did I ever do to deserve you?"

"It's not about deserving," Cas murmured, pulling Dean close. "I love you, and that's that." He tilted his head up so he could kiss Dean properly, catching his lips gently.

"Thank you," Dean whispered against his lips, slipping his hand into Cas's hair. "I love you, too."

A soft meow distracted them. Eve had managed to get onto the kitchen counter and was giving them an imperious look, as if to say, "Good job, puny humans."

Both of them laughed, and Dean wrapped his arms around Cas's waist as they moved into the kitchen to get even down off the counter and feed her. She bumped her head against each of them in turn and mewled before turning her attention to her food.

Cas laid his head against Dean's shoulder, content for the first time in a while.

Dean pulled him close again, kissing him as if he couldn't get enough. Cas pressed as close as he could, and Dean began walking backward, pulling them out of the kitchen and into the den to the couch. Cas smiled into the kiss for a second before turning them around and pulling Dean down onto the couch on top of him.

Dean was smiling softly. "Gorgeous," he murmured, leaning down to kiss Cas deeply, sliding his tongue into his willing mouth and licking against every surface. "Beautiful."

Cas couldn't help but smile at that, his hands coming up to tangle in Dean's hair and kiss him again. This time, the kiss deepened even further, with Cas sliding one leg up between Dean's to rub gently at his groin. It had been too long since they'd done this, between the stress at work and the fight, and Cas wanted Dean tonight.

Dean responded in kind, apparently thinking the same. His hands settled on Cas's waist, fingers slipping up underneath the hem of his shirt, tracing circles on his skin. Cas let out a soft noise, moving his lips to mouth along Dean's jaw as he wrapped his arms around his neck.

"Cas..." Dean breathed softly, and pulled them back upright. He kissed Cas again, lips moving softly and sweetly over Cas's, and murmured, "Come to bed with me?"

Cas smiled and nodded. "Of course."

Dean took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom, pausing every so often to kiss him again, and there was a measure of apology to the kisses, too, underneath the desire.

"I love you," Cas murmured as they finally made their way to the bed, kissing Dean's earlobe and pulling him down on the bed after toeing off his shoes. Dean followed him easily, pressing him into the mattress and pillows gently before kissing him again.

"I love you, too." Dean rucked Cas's shirt up under his arms, caressing his skin and rubbing over his nipples. Cas keened in response, arching into the touch, and slid his hands up the back of Dean's shirt to scrabble at his back. It was good, so good, to be back where they ought to be; wrapped around each other in their bed, loving each other.

Cas pulled at the waistband of Dean's jeans, thumbing at his hipbones, wanting. He wanted so much right now - wanted Dean inside him, over him, driving into him until they were a writhing mess of flesh and sweat and come.

"Want you," he whispered in the space between two kisses, and he unbuttoned Dean's fly as he kissed his way across Dean's face.

Dean made a soft noise and smiled, his eyes gleaming in the dim light from the hallway. He pulled at Cas's shirt, and Cas slipped out of it before leaning back again. Then Dean pulled his own shirt off in one smooth motion, and Cas couldn't help but slide his hands all over the newly-exposed expanse of his chest.

Cas leaned up again, his hips grinding against Dean's as they kissed. Dean moaned into his mouth, and he reached between them to undo Cas's jeans, palming the growing bulge he felt there before shoving at his pants.

Cas chuckled a little when Dean fumbled at it, and slid out of his jeans and underwear, undulating against Dean as he did so.

Dean groaned and pulled out of the rest of his clothes, too, before wrapping a hand around both of their cocks. "God, Cas, baby, so gorgeous."

Cas bucked into Dean's hand as he slid his hands into Dean's hair again and whispered, "I want you inside me."

Dean nodded and pulled a condom and the lube from the nightstand before skittering down the bed. Cas spread his legs, keeping his eyes on Dean, because really? Watching Dean prep him made it ten times better.

Dean kissed and nipped all over the insides of Cas's thighs, then lifted his hips a little so that he could tease his tongue around the edges of Cas's hole. Cas bucked into the teasing, wanting it so bad it almost hurt, and Dean gave him a little more, slowly pressing inside with his tongue, licking Cas open until he quivered, dick dripping precum onto the back of Dean's shoulder.

Then, he pulled away, and Cas whimpered at the brief loss before Dean slicked up his fingers and pressed one inside where his tongue had just been. He worked him over like that, his eyes meeting Cas's.

"More," Cas begged, spreading his legs wider, and Dean's breath hitched before he slid another finger in. Cas moaned, pressing back against his touch, but he still needed more, needed to be filled the way that only Dean could. "Please, more..."

"So greedy for it, huh, baby?" Dean whispered, nipping at Cas' thigh.

Cas had to nod at that, and Dean rewarded him with another finger, curling them to drag along Cas's prostate. That pulled a long moan from him, and a shudder, and he tried to rock down on Dean's fingers, trying to fuck himself on them, really.

"You ready for me?" Dean asked, slithering back up the bed. Cas wasn't sure when Dean had slicked up his cock, but now it pressed against Cas's hole, tantalizingly close to where Cas needed it.

Cas whimpered. "Yes, yes, Dean, just please get in me right now." He was surprised that he was still this coherent, but he knew it wouldn't last long.

Dean sank into him with one long, smooth thrust. He moaned as he did, carding his hands in Cas's hair as he bottomed out at waited a minute for Cas to get used to the stretch of him - so much bigger than three fingers, he was.

Cas nodded when he was ready, and Dean pulled out almost all the way and thrust back in, building up into a rhythm that had Cas seeing stars.

It was good, so good, and Cas pulled Dean's face down to his for a kiss, tangling their tongues together as Dean rocked into him. The world shrank down to just the two of them and their bed, all of their stresses seeming to fade away - unimportant, now.

Cas lost track of time, caught up in his arousal as Dean peppered his collarbones and chest with kisses and bites, but eventually, Dean's hand was wrapping around his cock again. He didn't last long after that, coming with a shout, and he felt Dean tumble over the edge after him.

Dean pulled out, disposed of the condom, and climbed back into bed before Cas even broke through his post-orgasmic haze. He pulled Cas into an embrace as they lay there, kissing him again.

"I love you," he whispered, voice starting to color with sleep.

"I love you too," Cas murmured back.

Soon, they both drifted into sleep, and it was the best Cas had had in days.


	26. Underneath

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Underneath**

The next day, during a too-short break, Dean felt something tugging at the back of his awareness, a familiar uncomfortable feeling. He tensed his jaw and went through his long list of responsibilities; they were getting way too close to the show's opening night for him to fuck up now.

Nothing. But the feeling persisted, and he glanced around.

Then he realized - where was Sammy?

Gabriel was in the orchestra pit, and everything was quiet over there, so nothing had happened between him and Sam yet. Cas was talking to Anna about a scene, and Meg had disappeared into the curtains with Charlie. So where was Sam?

Dean swung around and pulled aside one of Meg's interns, a quiet kid whose name Dean couldn't remember but who made a decent cup of coffee. "Have you seen Sam?"

"Um," came the reply. "Yeah. He sorta went on a walk in the back hallways."

Dean nodded and left. He wasn't sure why he was so insistent on finding Sam, why now, but he wasn't the kind to ignore his own instincts. Especially when it came to Sam.

He threaded through the veritable maze of hallways, stopping when he heard Sam's voice.

"Look, the answer's still no. It's going to keep being no, so you can just go back to wherever it is you came from and leave me the Hell alone, okay?"

Another voice, sharp with frustration, replied, "Are you really so sure?"

Dean inched closer, glancing around the corner to see what was going on. Sam was glaring at a guy Dean thought he recognized - but he couldn't be sure, and that intensified the feeling of unease in his gut, along with the way this guy kept moving closer to Sam.

"Yeah, I'm sure. See, I've had time to think about the shit you've been telling me, and it's all bullshit." Sam was tense, but didn't seem frightened of the guy, which was good, at least.

The guy smirked. "What makes you say that?"

"You don't know me. I've gotten better advice elsewhere, and I really do not -"

Two things happened at the same time, essentially, at that moment. This guy shoved Sam back into the wall and forced him into a kiss, and, only a split second later, Dean was yanking him off.

"Fuck are you, and the fuck do you think you're doing?" Dean threw the guy across the hallway, where he leaned as if he'd decided to move there himself. He smirked, mouth like a knife, and pushed off, crossing the hall and standing too close, making Dean's skin crawl.

"Call me Luke. And he would've given in, anyway," the guy said.

Dean went completely still for a moment, memories washing over him in a way they hadn't in years.

Oh, come on. You'll like it, eventually.

You know, with everything I've done for you, this really isn't much to ask.

Then, he punched the guy in front of him in the face. It was too close, too familiar, and he wasn't going to let it happen again, not to Sam.

"Fuck you," he said, positioning himself between Sam and this Luke guy.

Luke smirked and approached again, tangling his hand in Dean's shirt. "I don't think you understand who you're talking to," he said softly.

"Does it look like I care who you are?" Dean stepped back and clamped a hand around Luke's wrist, wrenching it off of his clothes. He didn't let it show that he was surprised that the fabric tore, and glanced over his shoulder at Sam, saying, "Get outta here and go get Meg. I'll handle this d-bag."

Sam nodded, his eyes flicking over Dean's shoulder before turning and getting the hell out of Dodge. Dean caught Luke's punch without looking, and turned back around to send another haymaker into his jaw.

He followed up by burying his fist in Luke's gut.

Luke had the balls to laugh at him. "Did I hit a nerve, sweetheart?"

Dean snarled and lashed out again, trying to slam his knee into Luke's groin. Luke sidestepped him deftly, pinning him to the wall, just where Sam had been only moments ago. One hand wrapped tight around Dean's throat, he leaned in and whispered, "You've gone and stood in my way. I'm not the type to forgive and forget, Dean Winchester, so remember me. One day, just when you think you're safe, well...I've got powerful friends. You can never be safe from me."

Dean spat in his face and jumped, kicking into Luke's abdomen. "Or I could put you in the hospital tonight, and you can leave my brother the hell alone."

Luke growled, trying to get at him again, trying to pin him down, but Dean drew on years of barfights to slip out of his grasp. He wound up behind him and kicked him forward. Luke hit the wall hard, but spun around and launched himself back at Dean, fury in his eyes.

Dean smirked and stepped aside, grabbing Luke by the back of of his collar and jerking him back, not letting him get any momentum. Luke snarled, all pretenses abandoned as he twisted around.

"We gotta continue this?" Dean asked, tone almost conversational as he drove his knee into Luke's gut.

Luke exhaled sharply and clawed - actually clawed - at Dean's throat. Dean dodged it and caught Luke's wrist, sliding behind him to pin his wrist to his back.

Luke twisted, hitting Dean in the neck with his elbow, but Dean moved from there, keeping his hand tight around Luke's wrist as he slid back and pulled Luke into an armbar. He kneed him in the face this time, and Luke jerked upward, in obvious pain.

Dean didn't care. He threw Luke to the wall again.

"Do you understand me, douchebag? I don't care who you are. You lay a hand on Sam again, and this won't even compare to what I'll do to you." Dean took a step back as Luke slid down the wall.

He basically looked like death warmed over, his nose definitely broken and his eye starting to bruise. He shoved himself back up to his feet, glaring at Dean, and Dean had no fucking idea where this guy was getting the will to keep going.

"Dean!"

Dean turned, keeping an eye on Luke as he did, to find Meg barreling down the hallway toward them. She, too, looked like death, but she looked more like she was going to be the one doing the killing, her eyes dark with anger.

Behind her, Sam, Crowley, and Michael were turning the corner, and Michael's whole body froze when he looked from Dean to this Luke guy.

"Oh look, the cavalry has arrived," Luke said, somehow smirking with his voice.

Meg shot back at him, "Doesn't look like he really needed us." She turned to Dean, grinning for a moment. "Looks like you had him pretty well in hand."

Sam, Crowley, and Michael caught up to them, and Michael walked over to Luke and took him by the arm. "You're not allowed to visit rehearsals anymore, Luke, if you're going to sexually harass our stage crew members."

Luke actually rolled his eyes, as if Michael Hendricksen wasn't the most commanding figure in the room. "Fine, fine. So sue me for having a little fun."

"The point is that they don't," Michael growled. "I swear, if Father could see you -"

"Don't bring up Father here," Luke hissed back, yanking his arm out of Michael's grasp. "You know not to bring up Father in public."

"Wait, you're brothers?" Sam asked.

And Dean couldn't help but second Sam's confusion. Michael and Luke didn't resemble each other much at all - where Michael was tall, dark, and lanky, Luke was more thick-set and entirely blond.

"Yes. And I apologize for his conduct. We don't usually let him out of the house."

Crowley looked at Michael - Dean noticed a flash of realization in Crowley's eyes - and said, "Damn straight you should."

Michael glared at him and turned back to Luke, obviously assessing his injuries. His expression darkened. "I don't see why violence was necessary, Mr. Winchester."

"He wasn't exactly against it," Dean said quietly.

"Sometimes he doesn't quite understand the difference between acceptable and thoroughly inappropriate," Michael said, voice dangerously soft.

"He does not appreciate being talked about like he's not there, Michael," Luke said, his voice dropping low on Michael's name, as much a warning as something Dean couldn't put his finger on. He half-shrugged as all of Michael's attention snapped back to Luke.

Dean took another step back and realized that his hand hurt like hell. He glanced down at it and found that his knuckles were bloody and starting to bruise.

He hadn't gotten into a fight like this since...

He refused to think about it, not when there were so many people around. It wouldn't be pretty if he lost it, and worse if he lost it in front of his bosses.

Meg looked over at him. "Cas is coming. Michael's giving you, Sam, Gabe, and Cas the rest of the day off as a..." she dropped her voice, and he could hear the air-quotes when she said, "'courtesy for Luke's misbehavior.'"

Dean nodded. "Thanks," he muttered, flexing his injured hand.

As if on cue, Cas came down the hall in his trench coat, carrying Dean's jacket over one arm. He looked quietly determined, and Dean realized that he needed that right now, needed it bad."

"Dean." Cas's voice was soft and urgent, and he looked Dean over, checking him for injuries.

"Hey. I'm fine," he said, catching Cas by the elbow and turning him around with his good hand. "Meg said we're free, so we should probably get outta here."

Cas leaned into his touch easily, and Sam fell into step with them silently.

Dean craned his neck to look at him, because he was on Cas's other side. "You okay, Sammy?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine." Sam smiled a little, but his expression twitched into something else that definitely meant I know why you did that, and you need to tell Cas.

Sam's facial expressions tended toward the verbose.

Dean nodded almost imperceptibly, saying I know in the space of a second before pulling Cas closer. He knew he'd have to tell him eventually, and now was as good a time as any.

"Sam, you should talk to Gabriel," Cas said quietly, obviously seeing straight through the way Sam and Dean communicated silently.

Sam shook his head. "Tomorrow. I need to decompress."

Cas nodded. "I understand," he murmured. Dean reached up to muss up Cas's hair fondly - only Cas had ever been so considerate when it came to Sam, and it was one item on the long, long list of reasons Dean loved him.

The three of them walked out into the cold winter air, and Dean settled himself. When they got home, he'd sit Cas down and tell him everything.

* * *

Cas wondered why Dean had gone so quiet during the walk home, but guessed it had something to do with what he and Sam had been not-talking about when they were leaving the theatre. He hoped that everything was okay - or, rather, that it would be okay.

He'd known there were things Dean wasn't ready to open up about when they'd first gotten together; he was fine with that. After all, it had taken a nervous breakdown onstage for Cas to talk about Balthazar.

Cas was reasonably sure that this silence was going to break open into some revelation about Dean's past when they got home, so he savored it, leaning into Dean a little as they walked through crowded Manhattan streets. It was going to snow soon, he thought, and smiled. He liked snow.

They arrived at the building in companionable silence, Dean's arm around Cas's waist, and went upstairs.

When they got inside, leaving their coats on the coat rack, Dean pulled him to the couch. They toed off their shoes and sank down on it, into a comfortable tangle of limbs. Dean leaned against the end of the couch and pulled Cas so Cas's back was pressed against his chest. He dropped a gentle kiss to Cas's shoulder, and began:

"His name was Alistair."

Dean pulled Cas close as he let himself remember all of it. It was all over, after all, and Alistair couldn't hurt him anymore. "Alistair Starling. He blew into town pretty soon after Dad died. I was nineteen, and Sammy was fifteen, and all I could think about was how do we survive on part-time pay? I was already only a part-time student at the local community college, and even before Dad died, he'd...his liver basically ate itself, so he wasn't working much, near the end."

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to keep his head. Those had been bad days.

"Alistair saw me at the bar one night, and we got to talking. I was kind of drunk, and he just let me talk and talk about how I was losing it, and there was no way we'd be able to keep the house, and Missouri had offered to take us in but I couldn't do that to her - just, all the shit that was scaring me then."

Cas nodded, one hand covering Dean's. "It must have been hard."

"Yeah," Dean murmured, before continuing. "And Alistair, he just sort of sat there and listened, and it had been a long time since I could just unload on someone like that. I felt so much better by the time I got to the end of it...and then he said he could help."

Cas squeezed his hand as he paused.

"We started dating, and, well, at first he was great. He was good to Sammy, and he kept buying us things we needed, little presents or whatever - even helped us keep up the mortgage and keep me in school. He just...it was like he was heaven-sent.

"Then...well, he started asking for things I wasn't comfortable with giving. In bed."

He took a deep breath, trying to push down the feeling of illness that washed over him whenever he remembered those nights in the dark. "And it wasn't like I could really say no. By then, he was basically supporting me and Sammy, and he would use that against me. Said I owed him. And he made it sound like it made sense."

Cas turned over in his arms, looking beyond upset. "But you got out," he reminded him - though it was probably a little for himself, too - and pressed closer, leaning his head against Dean's chest.

"Yeah. I did. Because he...eventually - I was almost finished with my degree, and Sammy'd just finished his final growth spurt, so instead of this skinny kid, he was taller than me and really ripped; he'd been on the lacrosse team for a couple of years, and I guess it finally took." Dean took another breath, closing his eyes. "Alistair decided he was done with me, that Sam would be a better..."

Cas nodded, hands sliding up his shoulders, comforting. "Go on," he encouraged.

Dean made himself look down and meet Cas's eyes. He was almost poleaxed by the faith him found in them. He continued. "I caught him hitting on Sam."

He paused, remembering.

* * *

_He walked into the house, book bag slung over his shoulder. Only a week or two until graduation, and he had a job lined up in New York, and Sammy'd gotten into NYU. Soon, they'd be out of here; he could break up with Alistair and it wouldn't be the end of the world._

_"Oh, Sam," came Alistair's voice._

_Dean's gut went icy, because he knew that tone of voice. That Hannibal-mocking-Clarice drawl meant one thing and one thing only._

_He dropped his bag gently, making no sound as he walked toward that voice._

_"No. I said no. It isn't right," Sam was saying. "You're Dean's - Dean's whatever."_

_"You think I belong to him?" There was a note of amusement in Alistair's voice now, and Dean turned the corner into the living room. Alistair had Sam backed up against the wall, and his hand was tangling in Sam's hair._

_"Yeah. He does," Dean growled._

_Alistair turned, not letting go of Sam. "Oh, Dean. I don't know what you've been telling your brother, but I'm reasonably certain that isn't the case."_

_"Doesn't matter." Dean took a step closer, fists clenching._

_"Oh?"_

_"You're letting go of him, right now. And then you're gonna walk out of my house, and you are never coming back." Dean didn't even have to pretend he was committed to that._

_He didn't care what Alistair did to him._

_But Alistair had made a grave mistake, trying to pull Sam into this fucking hell._

_He didn't seem to realize it, though, because he laughed, he fucking laughed, and if Dean had his father's gun, Alistair would be dead where he stood. Instead, Alistair tightened his hold, dragging Sam's head to the side, and bit down on Sam's neck._

_Dean was across the room before he even realized what he was doing, ripping Alistair off of Sam like he was made of tissue paper._

_"My house, my fucking rules, you son of a bitch," Dean said quietly, before slamming his fist into Alistair's face, pretty much destroying his nose. "This relationship is over. You're not in charge here, asshole."_

_Alistair laughed again, a creaky sort of laugh, and tried to pin him down. "You're learning."_

_"Fuck you." Dean punched him again, this time in the solar plexus, forcing them toward the doorway. He was going to force Alistair out of the house, and never let him back in._

_"Face it, Dean," Alistair crowed, curling a hand tight around Dean's wrist. "You need me."_

_"Not anymore," Sam said, and all of a sudden, Sam was looming over Alistair's shoulder._

_Dean grinned triumphantly, pulling out of Alistair's grip. "That's right. I've got a fucking job in New York, and Sammy's graduating. We don't need your bullshit mind games anymore."_

_Alistair made a violent, animal noise and tried to pounce. For all his wiry strength, though, Alistair's real power had always come from everything else he could do._

_Everything he couldn't do now._

_Dean felt his grin twist a little, enjoying the way Alistair was reduced to this, and punched him again, sending him sprawling back against Sam. Sam grabbed him, and his grin matched Dean's._

_"We win, you fucker," Sam said, and dragged Alistair out the door._

* * *

When he was finished telling the story, Cas smiled. "You won, indeed."

Dean smiled back. "We did. And then we moved out here, and everything got better. We made enough money to get by, pay rent, finish off the mortgage on the house - it was great."

"Except it wasn't," Cas murmured, seemingly reading it in the tenor of his voice or his expression.

Dean had to nod. "It fucked me up pretty bad when it came to relationships. I...I had trouble trusting people." He tipped his head down to kiss the top of Cas's head. "You were the first, after him."

Cas looked up at him, eyes widening a little. "Really?"

"Yeah."

Cas leaned up and brought their faces close to each other. "Thank you. For...for everything. For trusting me."

"Thank you for existing, and putting up with my shit," Dean murmured back, and then pressed his lips to Cas's.

It was a soft, warm kiss, close-mouthed at first. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, moulding to his body like a blanket, and Dean made a soft little moue of contentment, his hands settling in the small of Cas's back.

They stayed like that, necking on the couch like teenagers, for a long while. Eventually, though, Cas pulled back. "I love you," he said quietly, looking deep into Dean's eyes.

And Dean could see the unspoken promise in them - the I will never hurt you - in them, and it warmed him more than anything else.

"I love you too," he said, and kissed him again.

The next time they broke for air, Cas asked, "That's why you freaked out so much, when Michael's brother was...you know. Right?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. I wasn't gonna just stand there."

"I know," Cas said, smiling, and pecked his lips. Everything had happened after dinner break, so it was getting late by now. The rest of the cast and crew were probably leaving rehearsal by now, which is why Cas continued with, "Let's go to bed, hmm?"

"Sure," Dean said.

They did.

And later, when Dean was slipping into sleep, curled around Cas, he realized that he was happy. Happier than he'd been in a while.

For the first time in a long time, all was well.

All was well.


	27. Teenage Dream

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Teenage Dream**

Sam shifted his bag higher on his shoulder as he walked into the theatre. He'd asked Gabriel to meet him there early – he didn't really want to make a scene this time around, considering the way this stupid fight had started in the first place.

It didn't make him any less nervous. For all Cas had said, Gabriel's words had cut deeper; they'd picked out each of his flaws and called him out on them, and it had hurt.

He took a deep breath and forged on.

Gabriel was waiting in the front row of the theatre, exactly where he'd said he'd be, which was comforting. If this went south, at least it would do so in person.

"Hey," Sam said, biting his lip.

"Hey yourself," Gabriel said, eyes looking everywhere but at Sam.

Sam drew a little closer, dropping his bag down next to the piano in the orchestra pit. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked over to where Gabriel was sitting.

Gabriel tensed as Sam came near, and Sam sighed. "Look, I'm—"

"Don't," Gabriel said, meeting his eyes. "Don't you dare apologize."

"What?"

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Sam. I was being stupid, and an asshole, and I…" Gabriel closed his eyes. "I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted to break up with me over this."

That threw Sam for a loop. He was expecting at least a little fight out of Gabriel, not this.

Not this.

"But – but…everything you said was right." Sam sat down in the seat next to Gabriel. "All of it. I am easily irritated and jealous and exacting –"

"A friendly eye would never see such faults," Gabriel countered.

"A flatterer's would not, though they do appear/As huge as high Olympus." Sam smiled. "First, don't try and win an argument with an ex-English major using a Shakespeare quote, you know."

Gabriel smiled back, almost hesitantly.

"And secondly, why are you trying to win this argument at all?" He cuffed Gabriel on the shoulder. "I'm not breaking up with you."

Gabriel's eyes widened, and he surged forward over the arm of the seat, kissing Sam enthusiastically, almost desperately. Sam smiled into it and pulled Gabriel the rest of the way into his lap. His own worries evaporated – they were going to be okay, they really were – in the face of the way Gabriel held onto him.

When they stopped to breathe, Gabriel tangled his hands in Sam's hair. "God, I love you."

Sam felt his eyes go wide. Gabriel had never said…

"I love you too," he whispered, closing the tiny gap between them and kissing him again.

They stayed like that, making out in the seats like teenagers, until Sam heard someone gently clearing their throat.

Oh shit. Crowley.

Crowley's eyebrows were raised, and he looked vaguely amused, so they couldn't have been in that much trouble, but it still made Sam nervous – considering they'd left early yesterday…

"Now that you've clearly made your amends, can you please go do your jobs?"

Gabriel smirked and shifted so he was straddling Sam's legs. He looked back over his shoulder at Crowley and sing-songed "Maaaaaaybe."

"I do not run a matchmaking service here, Mister Delacroix. Get to work." Crowley grabbed Gabriel by the collar and pulled him off of Sam. Gabriel scrabbled a bit to keep hold of Sam, but failed –mostly looking like he was flailing a little.

Sam laughed. "Probably should, Gabriel. Let's not incur his wrath?"

"Spoilsport," Gabriel teased, pouting.

Sam just smiled, shook his head, kissed Gabriel briefly on the lips, and left to obey Crowley's orders.

* * *

Cas leaned over the frame of the crew room, noting that it looked like they were pretty much done for the day. He was careful not to put even a toe inside out of fear of being chewed out (due to the no cast in the crew room rule), so he waited there patiently until Dean looked over and saw him, a smile breaking out over his work-weary face.

Just that simple action, just that smile of relief coming across his boyfriend's face, when he knew how stressed out he was, just that simple action filled Cas with a warmth he hadn't felt in weeks. Dean strode over to him with confidence, looking into his eyes before pushing him back into the hallway and gathering him in his strong arms and kissing him deeply.

Cas felt himself being bent over backwards just slightly, his own body arched and flush against Dean's, and it was so intense that he barely registered the catcall coming from the crew room. When Dean pulled up, taking him with him, Cas pulled his face away just an inch, looking into his eyes, breath completely taken away.

Dean smiled. "It feels really great to see you after not working on the stage all day and just being cooped up in the crew room fixing shit."

Cas raised an eyebrow. "I could tell. That was… enthusiastic, to say the least."

Dean's signature cheeky grin flashed across his features. "Along with breathtaking and mind-numbing, right?"

Cas grinned in return. "The only reason why I never bash you for being so cocky is because you're usually right," he conceded.

"Aww," Dean commented, snuggling their faces up together cutely before pressing another, more chaste kiss to Cas's lips.

"Shut up…" Cas mumbled, blushing.

Dean looked him straight in the eyes again before caressing his cheek with one hand. "You know I love it when I make you blush," he whispered, and Cas couldn't help but melt into his touch again as their lips met in a flurry of emotion.

And all of those moments combined, in the hallway of the theater, made Cas realize that everything was going to be okay.

* * *

"Just look at them," Charlie pointed out from where she was seated backstage with Meg, looking on into the hallway. "And Sam and Gabriel before? Everything is finally working out for everybody. It's so uplifting."

Meg, seated next to her, shifted her body over to the side a little bit so that their knees were touching. "You know how I am with other people… my jar of fucks I can give is usually completely empty. But it's different with these guys, I don't really know why… it's like, they bring out something in me that usually lies dormant." She looked over and glanced at Charlie for a second before looking off into the distance thoughtfully. "It's different than what you bring out though. You bring out the best of me. But with them… it's like, they bring out this protective fire that I don't usually have. I mean, I have that for you too, now, but it's different. It just… it makes me really want them all to be happy. All four of them. And they're happiest when they're with each other; that much is clear. That's why I got so mad the other day when Michael's brother practically threw himself at Sam, or so I heard… I just can't bear to see any of them get hurt."

Charlie smiled softly, leaning over and placing a hand on Meg's knee. "You're a secret softie when people get close to you, that's all," she stated, and Meg turned away, blushing. "I saw the way you were when they were all fighting. You were practically just as tense as they were. You're like… connected to them. God forbid anyone tries to hurt them, I don't even want to know how you'd react." At the dark look that came across Meg's face in foreboding, she had her confirmation. "Relax, I'm just saying. Not like anything will. It's just really great how you have such a connection."

Meg nodded. "I just got so fucking tired of the apathy, and Cas sort of wormed his way in, and of course Dean came along with him. And then Sam was a great worker, and you know Gabriel is the most annoying fucking person on the planet but I care about him a little bit now too. I don't know. It's just how it is."

"And that's why I find you so interesting," Charlie confessed, leaning her head over on Meg's shoulder.

And in that fleeting moment, all was well.

* * *

Lucifer was waiting when Michael came home. He was wearing his finest, but had made sure to get himself absolutely drenched in blood.

Michael looked at him, and it was as if there was nothing to react to, and that, more than anything, irritated Lucifer. He wanted to get a rise out of him, tempt him, distract him. Get him to shove Lucifer up against a wall and take him.

He wanted a fight, and he wanted a fuck. Maybe he wanted them both at once.

And, looking at Michael, who could really blame him?

"What was that about, Lucifer?" Michael was calm, almost dismissive. Lucifer seethed – this was very much unlike him, not to rise to Lucifer's bait.

He stayed quiet, not wanting to give an inch.

"Am I too easy? Is it not enough of a challenge?" Michael took a sip of wine, his tone conversational. "Because that can easily change."

"I'd just find another fuck. You know I can."

"I don't know. You seem to have lost your touch, considering the circumstances."

Lucifer clenched his hands on the armrests of the chair he was in. "A fluke. If not for his brother, I would've had Sam Winchester in my bed within the week."

"I doubt it."

"You're wrong."

"What, nothing more witty than that? You really are losing your touch." Michael smiled. "Maybe I should stop sleeping with you. God knows it could only make my life easier."

"You'd come crawling back to me, like you always do," Lucifer shot back. "Face it, Michael, you're never going to be able to stop fucking your little brother – you might as well get over here and enjoy it."

There had to be something more potent in that wine, because ever when the fricative k in "fuck" cracked across the conversation, Michael didn't so much as bat an eyelash, and he didn't even blanch when Lucifer pointed out exactly how fucked up they were. "Are you so sure about that?"

"Yes, I am. Are you trying to play with me, Michael? Trying to give me a taste of my own medicine?" Lucifer stayed seated, but lifted a hand to tap a finger against his chin. "It won't work. I know torture better than you. You never gave it a go, after all. All these years, you were daddy's little princess, fronting the organization. Did everything Father asked, and what did it ever get you? The family fortune, and me to fuck. Pity it was only ever me you wanted, hmm?"

Michael finished his glass of wine and stood. "Your vanity has always been your biggest flaw."

"Your hypocrisy is yours, hm?" Lucifer said, mirroring Michael's movement. "With that public, squeaky clean face, advocating for the good of the people of New York, and then you come home and fuck dirty little me into the mattress. Sweetheart, admit it. You're worse than me, and you always will be."

Michael smiled. "Yes, yes I am. I just happen to have a conscience."

With that, Michael left the room.

Lucifer growled in his absence, glaring at the doorway.

Fine. If Michael was going to be like that, Lucifer could go back to what he was best at – doing whatever he wanted.

And right now?

He wanted to destroy Dean Winchester.

A smirk teased the corners of his lips, and he left for his workroom to plan.


	28. I Was Here

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: I Was Here**

"Oh come on, Dean, stop teasing her!" Cas chided, laughing, as he took the cat toy out of Dean's hand and dangled it down to a level where Eve could reach it, and the two of them watched and chuckled as the kitten snatched the fake fabric mouse up and rolled on the floor with it in her claws.

Seated on the living room floor around the tiny kitten with toys scattered here and there, they made quite a picture, one of Cas's hands still entwined with one of Dean's. The intense rehearsal schedule had been wearing them both thin, and being granted with a day off on a Sunday was a relief and a half, and it wasn't often that they had enough time and energy to just sit down and play with the kitten. Cas especially was very happy that they could; he had a soft spot for the cat from the moment he laid eyes on her on Christmas.

Dean looked over at his boyfriend and planted a soft, loving kiss on his lips, eliciting the sweetest smile that warmed him from head to toe. "This is one of the things I really love about being with you, Cas. The little things. Moments like this."

Cas moved over and kissed him back, pushing him so that he was leaning back against the couch and Cas was straddling his lap. "Yeah, I know what you mean," he whispered, and winked, noting the dark, lustful look in Dean's eyes. He teasingly withdrew from Dean's lap ever so slowly and sat down next to him, and they both looked down at the cat.

Eve was staring at them with wide, curious eyes, and the slightest tilt to her head that mimicked Cas to the point where it made Dean burst out laughing.

"What?" Cas asked. "She's so cute. What's so funny?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "She was totally watching us kiss. And wondering what the hell was going on. I could see it in her eyes. It's hilarious!"

Cas looked back at the kitten, who stared him down and tilted her head even further, and then even he had to burst out laughing. "Do I seriously do that?"

Dean, unable to speak now that he was laughing hysterically and clutching his sides, only nodded, eyes starting to tear from the laughter.

As they settled in for the night, Cas curled up next to Dean on the couch so they could watch a movie, with Eve curling her little self up at Cas's feet on the cushion.

In the middle of the movie, it wasn't holding much interest for Dean, who looked down at the man leaning on his shoulder and smiled a content little smile, kissing him on the top of the head. "I love you, you know that?"

Cas smiled and looked up at him. "Yeah, I do, because I love you just as much," he replied.

Dean grinned and held him a little tighter. "So what are you gonna do after your show hits Broadway?"

Agreeing with the change in mood from movie to conversation, Cas sat up a little straighter. "Well, I'm originating the role, so I'll probably be in the cast for a couple of years… after that, I'm not sure. Move on to bigger shows? I've always wanted to be in Wicked, and Newsies is phenomenal but I'd need a lot more dance training to pull it off, but I know that this is going to open up more opportunities for me."

Dean nodded. "Well, once the production is done, I'm being promoted to be the second stage manager, so…" He wasn't able to continue when Cas smiled incredibly wide and pulled him into a kiss.

"Dean, that's great! You and Meg are going to be an amazing team. Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I don't know, I just wanted to bring up the topic of work," Dean said sheepishly. "But it is a pay raise so that's always great."

Cas nodded, still smiling. "I'm so proud of you, Dean. I knew your hard work would pay off." He rested his head on Dean's chest, leaning back against him, and the larger man just held him contently. "Speaking of which, Dean, where do you want to go from here?"

Dean's face looked honestly puzzled at that question. "I haven't really given it much thought. Good stage managers are hard to find, so I'm hoping I won't go out of work in that area, but as for growth, I'm not really sure… what about you?"

Cas smiled. "I just want to make it big, but not for the reasons you might think." He trailed off for a moment as if to collect his thoughts, and then continued, as if he had thought about this particular topic extensively. "I want to be one of those people that kids in school look up to, their favorite Broadway star, someone who they want to be like someday. Someone that inspires them. What I want is to have people come up to me and tell me that I'm the reason that they're chasing their dream. I want to make a difference. To show people that they can do what they put their mind to. And this career… it's perfect for that. But I just have to get one step higher."

Cas heard nothing but silence from Dean, and when he looked up at him, his boyfriend's eyes were shining with admiration.

"Dean, wha-"

Cas was interrupted when Dean grabbed him and kissed him, slowly but hard and passionate, and it took his breath away.

Dean pulled his face away only far enough to press their foreheads together and look into Cas's eyes. "Castiel Novak, you already inspire people. You inspire me. You have this inner desire to help people and it's what makes you such an amazing person. You are absolutely breathtaking."

Cas's eyes watered just the tiniest bit as he pulled Dean back towards him for another passionate kiss.

"I'm going to show you just how breathtaking you are, Cas."

Dean pressed Cas down into the couch, covering him with his body as he kissed him again. It seemed like every time he thought he couldn't be a luckier man, Cas did something or said something incredible - like how even his big dreams were all about other people in the end.

Cas was the most selfless person Dean had ever known, and it made Dean want to give him the world.

Since he didn't have any extra planets on hand, he decided to just start with his body. With his mouth, really, licking into Cas's gently. He slid his hands up Cas's sides to cup his face, then tangled them in his hair. "Beautiful," he murmured.

Cas smiled up at him, flushing. "I could say the same about you..."

Dean hushed him with another gentle kiss, slipping his knee in between Cas's legs. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders and pulled him closer, turning the kiss hotter even before he ground up on Dean's knee.

Dean rocked against him for a moment, pushing as close as he could as the kiss escalated. Then he pulled back, nosing down along Cas's jaw to his throat. He left a teasing little bite there, drawing a low noise from Cas's lips, and started working at the hem of Cas's shirt. Cas sighed in pleasure as Dean slid his hands over his abs and across his chest, and made another noise as his fingers danced over Cas's nipples.

Cas also rocked up against Dean's leg, slipping one leg over Dean's hip. Dean could feel Cas's burgeoning erection and moaned quietly, his hips rolling down in answer.

"We should – we should go to bed," Cas murmured. "Want you."

"You've got me - got me here, Cas." Still, Dean pulled Cas upright, keeping their bodies flush together as he picked a path to the bedroom.

He pulled Cas down onto the bed, on top of him, hands coming down to rest on Cas's ass. "Love you," he whispered before tugging on Cas's earlobe with his teeth and flipping them over.

Cas moaned. "You too," he mumbled, pulling off his shirt in a movement he'd managed to perfect in the last few months. It was a sinuous thing that he did with his abs and back that made Dean even hotter for him – Cas's flexibility was an enormous turn-on for him.

"Babe, you just lay there and let me worship you, hm?" he whispered into Cas's ear, sliding his hands down Cas's sides to undo both their flies. They slipped out of their pants quickly.

Cas seemed pretty amenable to the idea of being worshipped, and Dean kissed his way down Cas's body until his face brushed against the side of Cas's cock. Cas was already hard and leaking, and Dean wasted no time in sealing his mouth over the head.

"Dean!" Cas whimpered, hips bucking up, forcing Cas's cock further into Dean's mouth.

Dean soothed at Cas's hips and went to town, licking and sucking, doing his damnedest to give Cas everything he could.

It only took a few minutes of that for Cas to tangle his hand in Dean's short hair. "Dean, please, please," he whimpered, thighs tensing. "Want you inside me."

Dean smirked around Cas's dick and pulled off with a wet pop, nuzzling his face in the junction of Cas's hip and thigh. He hummed, voice pretty much wrecked, and moved lower to lick at Cas's hole. Cas made an absolutely shattered noise, hips hitching, and Dean wrapped his hand tight around the base of Cas's cock. Cas wanted him inside him before he came, and Dean was going to oblige.

He left off rimming Cas for a few seconds to pull some lube from the nightstand drawer, by which time Cas had turned over onto his stomach, ass in the air.

Dean moaned at the sight – Cas could be so wanton when he wanted to be – and started up again, thrusting his tongue into Cas's hole. Cas cried out, pressing back onto Dean's tongue, and Dean squeezed Cas's ass cheeks, kneading at them as he fucked Cas with his tongue.

He kept at that for a while, until Cas was making these incredible little sobbing noises and Dean knew he needed more. He slicked up his fingers and started prepping Cas. He was efficient about it, only lingering to drag over Cas's prostate a few times, because he needed to be in Cas right the fuck now, his cock twitching at every little noise Cas made.

Then he lubed up his own cock, squeezing at the base to the edge of pain before slowly sliding in.

Cas made a long moan as Dean slid into him, shuddering almost violently. Dean kissed his way up Cas's spine as he entered him, bottoming out smoothly and staying there for a long moment, to give Cas time to adjust.

"G-go," Cas mumbled, head hanging between his shoulders. He was practically vibrating with need, and Dean moaned and hurried to do as asked.

He slid almost all the way out and thrust back in, matching Cas's ensuing moan with a growl of his own.

They built up a rhythm together, rocking against each others' bodies. Dean kept peppering kisses across Cas's shoulders and up the back of his neck, until Cas was vibrating with need around him. Then he slipped his hand under Cas and stroked at him, wanting to feel the clenching pulse of Cas's orgasm around him.

He got what he wanted. Cas came with a short, almost barking scream, spilling over Dean's hand and shaking, falling onto his elbows.

Dean pistoned into him a few more times before following him over the edge, moaning something that tried to be Cas's name but mostly came out as a long vowel sound.

He had the presence of mind to pull out before his arms gave out, rolling over onto his back on the bed. He pulled Cas to him, keeping him away from the respectably sized wet spot on the sheets, and held him, kissing his temple.

They laid there in the afterglow, and, just before Dean drifted off to sleep, he couldn't think about the stress of the rehearsals to come or the show that would be opening that Friday - he could only think once again of how lucky he was to have Cas in his arms.

* * *

Lucifer waited in the wings. Not the literal wings, of course; how cliché and how stupid that would be. He stood, back to the wall, in an alleyway next to the theatre.

Tonight was the night, and he reveled in what was to come.

Tomorrow night was the first Broadway performance of Michael's musical, and tonight? Tonight was the night Lucifer was going to take his revenge.

He would take it out of Castiel Novak's flesh.

The stage crew were staying late tonight, the actors going home to get some much-needed rest. He knew that Castiel would be passing by, likely alone – had the boy learned anything from the Raphael incident? Anything?

Apparently not, because there he was, inches away from Lucifer's face.

Lucifer yanked him into the alleyway, taking Castiel's wrists in one hand and turning to an old standby – a chloroform rag – to shut him up.

He dragged him deeper into the alleyway, waiting for the street to empty out and for his getaway vehicle to arrive.

The Rolls Royce was maybe not the most inconspicuous car, but it was big enough to throw Castiel across the backseat before he slid into the passenger side. Lillian "Lilith" Fremont gave him a knife-like grin, and he gave her a short, brutal kiss as a reward before they drove off.

When Castiel next woke, it wouldn't be very much of a hyperbole to say it would be to hell on earth.


	29. Runs In The Family

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Runs In The Family**

Cas was supposed to be back by now. He'd only stepped out for a minute, to get some air during break, walk a couple of blocks.

That had been twenty minutes ago. Break had ended five minutes ago.

Dean was starting to get worried, Crowley was starting to get pissed, and the rest of the cast and crew knew they were standing in the middle of a fucking powder keg.

"I'm going to look for him," Dean announced, striding out at a faster than normal pace. He had only gotten a block away when he saw something glinting on the ground.

Bending down to pick it up, he examined it in his hand, and his blood ran cold.

It was the necklace that Balthazar had given to him. The one that had been put away in his bottom drawer. Why did Cas even have it with him?

More importantly, it signified what Dean had been dreading the moment Cas hadn't shown up as break ended. He ran full speed back to the theatre.

"He's been taken," Dean burst out with as soon as he ran inside.

"What?!" Crowley snarled.

"The - the necklace, he would never leave it laying on the ground, I think someone took him!" Dean said.

Everyone spun around when they heard the loud cock of a gun, seeing Meg brandishing a smooth, black Glock. "That someone is about to get their face blown off," she muttered darkly.

Dean stood there stunned for a moment before he realized what had happened. "M-Michael's brother, he had sworn that he wouldn't forget what I did to him…"

All eyes in the room turned to Michael, who had gone completely pale.

"Oh, fuck," Michael swore.

* * *

Castiel hated the feeling of regaining consciousness tied to something. It was happening way, way too often lately, and it sucked.

He managed to hold together pretty well, considering.

He was in a warehouse, and it looked like he was tied to a… was this a rack?

Now he was just annoyed. Seriously? Who the hell keeps a rack around to torture people on anymore? It didn't make sense anywhere outside horror or mafia movies these days. And he was decently sure his life hadn't suddenly turned into one of those.

Could people just leave him the hell alone at this point? All he wanted was to do his show and go home with Dean every night for the foreseeable future. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently it was, because here he was, tied to a rack in an empty warehouse the night before opening night for his first Broadway show for reasons completely unknown.

"Ah, you're up," said a vaguely familiar voice. "Good. I've been waiting."

Luke walked forward out of the shadows. He was dressed all in white, wearing a pleasant smile…

…and holding a long, sharp knife.

"You see, I don't like being thwarted," Luke continued. "Especially not by my brother's employees. I don't think he realizes how difficult failure can be for me - if I fail at my job? Men with dangerous information stay alive, or unwilling to talk. If I fail, I could get my brother killed."

"I don't know anything that could possibly be useful to you," Cas said firmly.

Luke shrugged, stalking closer. "But hurting you… hurting you hurts Dean Winchester. He kept me from something I wanted, and I don't take that lightly." He came within Cas's space and pressed the flat of the blade against Cas's cheek.

Cas couldn't help but shiver. "I can't let you do that."

"I don't see how you can prevent me." Luke smirked. "You know what other fellows in the business call me?"

"What?"

"Lucifer." Luke - Lucifer - drew the knife away before using it to cut Cas's shirt off of him. Cas didn't move as the knife came perilously close to cutting him. "They're all terrified of me - I'm the best there is at what I do. What happened with you and that Raphael Vaughan? Child's play. I can make you wish you'd never been born."

Cas's veins felt like ice as he realized Lucifer was the one who had murdered Raphael. "Dean will come for me, Luke," he responded, not using the obviously-preferred nickname. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Lucifer laughed. "I hope he doesn't mind taking you home in pieces."

"I don't believe you."

"Castiel, Castiel, Castiel," Lucifer said, shaking his head. "Where should I begin to convince you?"

Cas stayed silent.

"We could start with a classic - an ear, maybe. Something I can keep for a while, then send to him by mail as a reminder." Lucifer brought his knife up to caress the delicate skin behind Cas's left ear. "You can live without an ear. You just wouldn't be as pretty."

It was terrifying. Cas felt his palms beginning to sweat, and a leaden weight of fear consumed his stomach.

"Or, we could do something more creative," Lucifer said. "I could get you out of these jeans - take away what I'm sure is one of the reasons Dean keeps you around." He smirked again, pulling the knife down Cas's body, the knife so sharp it broke the skin.

Cas shook underneath it, crying out in pain, but couldn't think of anything to say.

"I could use you up," Lucifer whispered, slipping around behind Cas. They were of a similar height, and Cas shuddered as Lucifer pressed up all along his body. "Break you so bad you wouldn't even be able to think about getting fucked, not even by your precious Winchester. After all, I never got to fuck his brother."

"Please don't," Cas finally mumbled.

"Ah, he speaks," Lucifer said, sliding the flat of the knife between Cas's skin and his waistband. "Would that be the worst thing I could do to you, Cassie?"

Cas shuddered again, reminded of Raphael and Balthazar, and pulled at the chains on his wrists.

"Maybe it would be. Maybe I should castrate you first," Lucifer continued. "Or maybe those pretty fingers of yours would look even better after I cut them off." He moved the knife again, cutting a swirl in the flesh of Cas's hip. "Maybe I'll finger you open with them after. Bet you'd look good like that, hm?"

"You're a sick fuck," Cas said, voice trembling as hard as his body was, part pain and part fear.

Lucifer came back around in front of him. "Oh, I know. If I weren't, I'm sure Michael would've killed me a long time ago. Well, maybe. I do have other uses to him, I suppose. It's always good to have a scapegoat, especially in his line of work."

Somewhere in the dark, a phone started ringing.

* * *

"What the Hell are we going to do?" Meg asked, rounding on Michael.

Dean had to agree with her. Michael had already vetoed calling the police - not yet, he'd said, not yet. Dean wasn't sure what the Hell he meant by that, but he couldn't think of any other good fucking ideas.

"I have connections," Crowley said quietly. He was looking at Michael carefully. "I'm not sure you even know the extent of what I can do."

"And I have money," Gabriel added, seeming a little too calm now. "A shit-fucking-ton of it. It's up to you who I use it to ruin, Mikey." He looked over at Crowley next. "This could be the beginning of a beautiful alliance."

Crowley's answering smirk was terrifying. Dean, in any other situation, would've applauded them.

"That's only if this son of a bitch is still alive when I'm through with him," Meg objected, spinning her gun threateningly. "Of course, Deano gets first dibs."

Dean wanted to rip Luke apart. He could imagine the pain on the blond's face (what was it with crazy blonds in Cas's life?) as Dean tore into him with a knife. He'd leave just enough for Gabriel, if Gabriel wanted anything.

"Put him on a rack, I say," Gabriel said. "It'd fit."

Michael looked at them like he was surprised by the viciousness of their anger. He really shouldn't have been. "Everyone, calm down."

"Calm down?" Crowley snapped. "Are you bloody mad? We're talking about the continued life and bodily integrity of Castiel Novak, Michael. Castiel, on whom the continuance of our careers rest, and to whom half the people in the room is more important than life itself, or damn near close. And you're expecting everyone to just calm down?"

Dean had to agree. "If there's so much as a scratch on Cas, I swear to God, I don't care if Luke's your brother, I'm gonna end him, and end him bloody."

Michael nodded at him.

"All right! Everyone, calm the fuck down. I'm calling Luke."

Silence fell faster than Satan. Dean schooled himself to calm, can't could see Gabriel and Sammy doing the same. Meg seemed to be holding on to her anger, keeping it hot, and Crowley smirked again into the silence.

"Luke?"

* * *

Lucifer cursed under his breath. "That's for me," he said, and sheathed his knife in Castiel Novak's side, taking a hit of vicious pleasure from the mewling cry of pain the actor made.

The tears that had been building in Cas's eyes started falling, then.

He shook, and shaking jostled the knife, making it hurt even more, which made him whimper louder in pain. He was dead if Dean didn't find him, and find him soon.

For a long moment he wondered if he had died, and this was Hell.

If only he were so lucky.

Lucifer walked back into the darkness before he flipped open his phone. It was Michael, of course - Michael was the only one who ever called him. No one else ever had the chance - he did his business in person, after all.

"Luke?" Michael asked on the other end of the line.

Ugh, he was in public, wasn't he. Poor bastard. Lucifer shook his head. "Little early for a booty call, Michael," he murmured, not loud enough for Castiel to hear.

"Fuck you," came Michael's reply. "Where are you?"

"We can fuck later. I'm working."

"I never gave you an assignment," Michael responded, voice going sharp. "You need to be careful. I recognize that you're upset -"

"Upset? Why, brother, I could almost believe you gave a damn."

He pulled another knife out of his belt, sharper and smaller. "Almost."

"Luke, where - are - you." Michael's voice was all orders - and it promised punishment. Lucifer loved that voice on Michael - it meant that things were going to be very good when they got home.

He laughed. "Why? You lose track of something of yours?"

"You have him, don't you." It wasn't a question, and it almost sounded resigned.

"Yes, yes I do." Lucifer twirled his knife in his fingers. "The Winchesters should never have gotten in my way. It would've been much easier for them if they'd just given me what I wanted."

He could practically hear his brother's frustration. "Let him go."

"Why?"

"Because I'm telling you to. Do you want to ruin me, Luke?"

"Not you. Them. Hurting you is only a bonus, brother." Lucifer started walking back toward where he had Castiel strung up on the rack. He'd had Lilith help him move it from his workroom before they'd snatched Castiel earlier. "You know what I want. It's the same as always."

Castiel was looking at him with terror in his eyes - a balm for his wounded pride.

"How about you put Winchester on the phone? I can get Castiel on the line - give you all an incentive to play the game…"

Lucifer loved this game of cat and mouse - Michael had made him play it with more than a few marks over the years, and it always drove the poor bastards crazy long before Lucifer got his knives in them.

"Fine," Michael said.

There was a long moment of silence, and then Dean Winchester said, "Cas?"

"Not quite yet, boy," Lucifer said. "Let me put you on speaker."

He did, and walked closer to Castiel, getting into his personal space. He twisted the knife in Castiel's side, and the actor cried out in pain.

"Cas!" Dean's voice was tinny over the speakerphone, but it elicited another sob from Castiel.

Perfect.

"Dean," Castiel said - with effort - "Dean, be careful. Please."

"Damnit, Cas, I'm gonna fix this. I promise, babe." There was a quick moment of silence. "Luke, if you hurt him, you're a dead man walking."

"I've hurt him, oh yes I have. And I'm going to go on hurting him until you get here." Lucifer smiled wickedly at Castiel, reaching over to stab Castiel in the hand, careful to slide the thin blade between the carpal bones. It would hurt like a bitch - Castiel screamed so prettily - but he was saving the more permanent harm for later.

"I'll have him strung up with Christ's stigmata, boy. I've already gotten his side and one hand."

"You fucking son of a bitch - Cas, hold on. We're comin' for ya. I swear."

"I know, Dean," Cas said, and the level of sincerity in their voices sickened Lucifer. They obviously didn't know what life was really like.

In real life, the villains always won - they were the ones who lasted. Who broke enough times that they took to breaking others instead.

So he took the knife out of Castiel's hand and stabbed the other.

As Castiel screamed, he ended the call.


	30. No Quarter / Janie's Got A Gun

**Chapter Thirty: No Quarter / Janie's Got A Gun**

Dean raced up the stairs from the subway, swinging around a lamppost and barely pausing to look for the faded words on the warehouse where that son of a bitch had Cas.

He found the door, bolted and chained pretty heavily, but he refused to give any semblance of a fuck. He kicked at the lock, hard, and the rusted chain gave. Another kick sent the door swinging inward - he'd seen enough ways a door could break in the last few months, after all - and he continued into the warehouse.

It was laid out like a labyrinth, walls of boxes and support pillars obstructing any clear view of where Cas might be. So he followed the left-hand wall of what was a pretty obvious maze, running as fast as he could. He didn't know what he was going to find when he finally got to Cas, but it was bound to be worse the longer it took for him to get there.

Finally, he came to the mouth of the maze, and there was Cas, stretched on - was that really a fucking medieval rack?

Dean looked him over, wincing internally as he took in the myriad cuts littering Cas's arms and torso. There were going to be scars from these, along with from the stab wounds in his hands and his side, he knew, and rage began to pool in his gut - no one was allowed to do this to Cas. Luke was going to pay.

Speak of the devil, and so he shall appear.

Luke slid out of the shadows, grinning nastily. Dean took a step toward him, toward Cas, but then Luke had a knife to Cas's throat. Dean stopped immediately, even as a snarl twisted his lips.

"Good to see you, Dean. We've been waiting for you." Luke's voice was silk, like it had been when he'd been talking to Sam. "After all, I can't really get it up, so to speak, without the right audience."

"Fuck you," Dean ground out. He leaned forward, waiting for Luke to fuck up - he was bound to, because everyone did eventually, even evil sons of bitches like this guy - but Luke pressed the knife a little harder against Cas's skin. Cas let out a whimper, trying to crane his neck away from the knife, and Dean's fists clenched even harder at his sides at the sound of his Cas in pain.

"Seems like we're at a bit of an impasse, hmm?" Luke said. "Wonderful."

"If you lay another finger on him, I swear, I'll fucking kill you," Dean said, forcing his voice deadly calm.

Luke laughed. "How do you propose you're going to do that, hm? If you move, the game ends early, and Cassy here bleeds out right here, right now."

"Let's have a little blueprint on what happens next, hm, Dean?" Luke buried a hand in Cas's hair and pulled his head back, bearing his neck as much as could be done. Cas yelped, still seemingly unable to put his pain to words. "I'm going to finish your boy's stigmata - he's missing his crown of thorns, you know - and then we're going to play the classic-"

"Shut the fuck up," Dean interrupted, the fricative 'k' cracking through the warehouse. "Do you really think I showed up here alone?"

"Really," came Meg's voice out of the dark. "I'm surprised. Mr. Big Bad Hitman not taking this into account." Her voice was dryer than the Sahara and ten times as dangerous.

She had her revolver trained on Luke, arms steady and posture strong, but Luke just chuckled coldly. "Meggy's got a gun… Meggy's got a gun…" he sang at her, all of his attention shifting from the matter at hand to Meg's gun and his own distaste. "Are you going to put a bullet in my brain, little girl?"

"The gun's insurance. We can't have you running away, after all. But I'm not going to shoot you if I don't have to." Meg was chilly and clipped in her tone. "I'd rather not make someone clean up the mess, but if you make it necessary, I sure as shit will."

"I recommend that you just get on with it," Luke murmured. "Unless you'd like to watch the show, too."

"The only show going on in the next twenty four hours is mine, brother."

Michael stood at the mouth of the maze, face impassive and hands in his pockets.

* * *

Michael stared, unblinking and seemingly unconcerned, at his brother. Lucifer looked bad, looked desperate - it was in the flat calm with which he was carrying himself. Nobody else would notice but Michael. It was clear that Lucifer had taken his words to heart after their last argument.

Which, of course, meant that he - Michael - was responsible for what was happening here.

When this was over, he was going to have to compensate Dean and Castiel very, very well. In any way they so desired.

"Let Castiel go," he ordered, tone brooking no argument, because there could be no argument.

Lucifer actually growled. "No, brother. I am never taking orders from you again. I'm finished with that. There is nothing you can say that will stop me now."

If the words shook Michael at all, he knew it would leave no sign on his face. He turned to Meg and said to her, "Shoot him. Preferably cleanly, through the skull."

Meg raised an eyebrow at him, hands tightening on the gun and finger moving to the trigger. "I won't. Not in the head. Not unless Cas is in immediate fucking danger, sir. I hope you can tell that he's playing around with all of us - he's having too much fun to end it right now."

"She won't," Lucifer mocked. "She hasn't got the fortitude to kill a man."

Her eyes locked on Lucifer, and she had a sharpshooter's focus on him now. "No, but I damn well can shoot an animal."

She squeezed the trigger twice, and two bullets buried themselves in Lucifer's upper arm - the one holding the knife. He hissed, hand spasming. The knife hit the floor with a sharp thwik-clang, but Lucifer switched hands, wrapping his good remaining arm around Castiel's neck and tightening it into a chokehold. Cas squeezed his eyes shut, attempting a gasp and coughing out the remaining air in his lungs.

Michael didn't need much more convincing, with the angle he had and the determination in Lucifer's eyes: he pulled his gun out of his jacket - a Bulldog revolver, easily concealed and high-caliber enough to kill easily.

But he didn't shoot for the kill.

He instead fired off two shots of his own, each burying itself in one of Lucifer's knees. Lucifer went down onto them, making a rough, pained noise as he hit them on the pavement. His eyes met Michael's, and Michael whispered nos culpa, nos culpa, because it was, in the end, both of their faults.

When it was clear that Lucifer was done for, Dean Winchester let go of any pretense of calmness. He dashed toward the rack and started undoing the bindings keeping Castiel attached to it, frantically, desperately.

"D-Dean…" they heard Cas rasp.

Satisfied that Castiel's safety was assured, Michael dragged Lucifer to lean against a pillar and kneeled down next to him.

"When he came in, I knew." Lucifer smiled at him, without any hint of malice. It was an unfamiliar smile, and it took Michael by surprise. "GPS on the phone, right?"

Michael nodded, slowly, as realization dawned.

Lucifer had wanted to be caught.

"I understand," Michael murmured softly. He surreptitiously carded a hand in Lucifer's hair, like he had when they were teenagers, still feeling out the ins and outs of this thing they had.

Years ago, Lucifer had pulled away as if burned. Tonight, he pressed back into the touch like it was all he'd ever wanted.

"You can't play much harder to get than dead, y'know?" Lucifer said, head lolling toward his good shoulder, exposing the column of his throat. "I'm irredeemable, and enough of an asshole to make you want to miss me."

Michael nodded, his gun cold in his hand, and he pulled it out again.

It didn't make it so much as level before another bullet, unfamiliar as could be, ripped through Lucifer's skull.

* * *

Dean's hands didn't shake at all on the handle of the gun.

It hadn't taken much to get the gun out of Meg's hands - when she saw the look in his eyes, she relinquished it willingly.

He put a bullet in Lucifer's brain almost before he could think about it.

When it was done, he tossed the gun aside and looked Michael in the eyes. Michael met his gaze gamely and nodded, understanding clear in the way he looked at Dean. Dean knew in that moment that if their situations had been reversed, Michael would've done the same thing.

The cold certainty of that fact finished it, and Dean withdrew, returning to where Cas was still half-leaning on the rack. Meg had drawn close and started tearing strips out of her t-shirt to bind up the wounds in Cas's hands, which was the only reason Dean had been at all willing to even move an inch away.

He moved close again, hand curling gently over Cas's shoulder. "Baby," he murmured. "We got you. We got you."

"You killed him. You - you killed him." Cas looked up at him, slightly dazed.

"The police will be satisfied with simply his death, Castiel," Michael said, turning and looking at them both. "If there is any problem… Well, I will take care of it. I owe the both of you far more than that."

Dean nodded. "Thank you. We'll keep that in mind."

Cas nodded as well, leaning into Dean more, lips brushing chapped and dry across the side of Dean's neck. "Take me home," he whispered.

"Babe, we gotta get you to a hospital first."

"Sick of hospitals," Cas mumbled, and went limp in Dean's arms.

Dean swallowed, and then kissed Cas's temple, and lifted him into his arms so he could carry him out of there.


	31. Let Me Be Your Star

**Chapter Thirty-One: Let Me Be Your Star**

“It looked pretty bad at first, but he should be okay. The cuts were all shallow and should heal overnight. But I still think he should see a doctor about his hands, or there’s definitely gonna be some scarring, and who knows what was damaged out of his tendons and ligaments, let alone the bone.”

Ellen’s living room wasn’t exactly the ideal place to get Cas patched up, but when Dean had originally intended to disobey his boyfriend’s wishes and take him to a hospital, it was Meg who stopped him.

_“He doesn’t want it,” she reminded him, “and the last thing he would want is to be forbidden from performing opening night. He’s a fighter, and a firm believer in ‘the show must go on,’ I might add. Besides, the last thing we need is for the police to start wondering why everybody wants to kidnap and torture Cas of all people.”_

Dean’s protests of the show being much less important than Castiel’s health were silenced when Cas himself croaked out Jo’s name, and Dean got the hint of where to take him.

So there they were, sitting on Ellen’s couch, watching carefully for any signs of pain as Cas slowly tugged his shirt and coat back on over the expertly applied bandages. 

“My hands are going to be fine, Ellen,” he reassured her, flexing his fingers as if to prove his point. “I already feel ten times better. I’ll be more than okay for tomorrow.” 

Ellen’s sarcastic glower brought a chuckle out of Jo, who placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder as if to restrain Ellen’s normally gruff disposition. “That’s because we slipped you enough leftover Vicodin to knock out a small elephant. Only take one tomorrow, and early enough that it’ll be out of your system before showtime. Last thing that you want is to have your brain all loopy while you’re on stage. If it were up to me, you’d be on your ass healing for three more days, at least. But I know how you are, and I know you’d ignore me anyway.”

Cas smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Dean noticed.

Dean placed a reassuring arm gingerly around Castiel’s shoulders, and it was the ever-perceptive Jo who noticed the way that Dean was close enough to Cas now that he was bandaged up and clothed that they were flush against each other.

“Dean, stay close enough to smother him all the way home and then some,” Jo said, to voice her thoughts. “Who knows if there’s another sick fuck out there…”

“Language,” Ellen reprimanded halfheartedly.

“I’m just glad he’s okay,” Jo responded.

“But he’s not okay,” Dean spat, taking his hand off Cas and moving off towards the window, looking out into the street. Cas jumped a little bit at his tone, but looked after him with painful regret in his eyes.

“Dean--”

“I’m not gonna start on how much this is my fault,” Dean said, looking down at his boots, ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes. “I’m just glad that the fucker who did this is dead.”

Meg and Michael had left after they explained to Ellen what happened while she was treating Cas, because Dean couldn’t bring himself to and Cas was still in pain before the Vicodin set in. This was the first time Dean had actually voiced what had been eating at him the most about this entire ordeal. 

Ellen’s perceptive eyes picked up on this and jumped in immediately to change the subject away from Dean’s perceived guilt. “And you’re sure the cops won’t be getting involved with that?”

Cas glanced over to Ellen with a grateful look on his face, which she acknowledged with a nod. Nobody wanted Dean to get into a rut of guilt and self-hatred over this.

“No way in hell,” Dean replied to Ellen, seemingly accepting the offered out from his other train of thought and pursuing the new subject with a vengeance. “Michael left an anonymous tip with the police which connects Luke to at least 15 unsolved murders as well as proof of involvement in organized crime. They’ll be jumping for joy that the bastard’s dead and blessing the name of the guy who shot him.”

“They can bless your name all they want, but they have an obligation to find out what the hell went down in that warehouse,” Ellen warned.

“Michael assured us that we wouldn’t be getting a visit from the cops. Not like last time… with Raphael,” Cas responded, trailing off. The memory of what happened that time was clearly shown on his face, and it couldn’t have been a worse time for those memories to be coupled with his traumatic experience with Luke that night. 

Dean’s nuzzle into the base of his neck was unexpected, showing how much his mind was elsewhere; so much so that he hadn’t even noticed Dean move back over to sit close to him. “Don’t think about that now, babe,” Dean said softly, and Cas exhaled shakily, leaning backwards into his touch. “Don’t think about any of it anymore. You’re safe. I promise, I’ll keep you safe.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to just stay here tonight?” Jo asked sympathetically.

“I… I think I just want to go home,” Cas replied softly, wistfully, and Jo nodded in complete understanding, moving to give Castiel a reassuring embrace and whisper a few soft words of encouragement in his ear.

Dean stood up, taking Ellen aside while leaving the two of them by themselves. “Thank you, Ellen. I mean it. I’m glad that we didn’t have to deal with doctors and questions and investigations tonight.”

Ellen smiled sadly. “I’ve patched him up from a hell of a lot worse. The first time he showed up on my doorstep injured I had half a mind to dig up my shotgun and teach that bastard Balthazar a lesson. I’m just glad the sicko didn’t get far enough to do damage as bad as last time.”

Dean’s face went white. “It was that bad? I mean, back when… you know, with Balthazar?”

Ellen nodded, glancing down at her feet. “I felt guilty as hell not taking him to a hospital, but he made me swear.”

Dean shivered. The kinds of memories that the kidnapping and torture must have been bringing up in Cas’s mind must be near-impossible to deal with.

“I think I’m ready to go home now, Dean,” Cas said from where he was seated by Jo, and Dean nodded as Jo pressed a kiss to the side of his head and passed Cas off to Dean, who helped him rise and made sure he was okay on the walk to the front door.

“Be safe,” Ellen warned as Dean guided Cas out the front door. 

“Don’t worry,” Dean called in response, thanking them one more time before stepping out into the cold night air, Cas at his side.

Cas seemed to be able to walk fine, but Dean could tell by watching his face that he was still in substantial pain, despite the painkillers and what he told Ellen to appease her motherly nature. Dean draped his arm around Cas’s shoulders, slinging Cas’s arm over his own to support him. They made the short trip back to their apartment in silence, but the unspoken emotions were more than palpable in the atmosphere between them, tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. 

As such, it wasn’t much of a surprise when Cas pushed him away as soon as Dean opened the door to their apartment, fleeing down the hall to the bathroom. Dean could hear him puking seconds later, the effect of the night’s trauma now apparent. It must have taken all the strength that Castiel had left to hold it together in front of Ellen, doing what he felt he had to do for himself, and there was no way Dean would begrudge him that after what happened.

The guilt and pain that twisted Dean’s stomach nearly sent him vomiting himself, but he steeled himself and shoved the nausea aside. To Dean, there were more important matters to attend to: making Cas okay. In his eyes, it was more than priority. It was necessity. Cas was his purpose; his direction. Without him, Dean was lost.

Dean could feel his subconscious shift the same way it shifted years ago whenever Sam was hurt or in need. The same way it shifted when he shoved off his dependence on Alistair to start a new life for himself and his brother. The same way it shifted when he walked in on Lucifer shoving himself onto his brother. The same way it shifted when he realized Cas was in trouble, both with Raphael and with Lucifer. 

Cas was nearly equivalent to Sam when Dean’s mind made that shift. He became Dean’s sole purpose, his only frame of mind. Protect. Heal. Comfort. Destroy anything standing in the way. 

The thought once again ran through his mind that he would gladly die for either of them.

The sound of Cas’s retching brought him back to himself, and he ran down the hallway, sinking to his knees beside Cas on the bathroom floor, rubbing his back and smoothing his hair out of the way of his face. As soon as Cas stopped throwing up, Dean could clearly see the tears streaming down his face.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay, I’m right here. You’re safe, I promise. I swear to God I’ll make sure you’re fucking safe,” Dean promised, pulling him close, ignoring the fact that he himself was crying.

“N-not…” Cas started, but he coughed, and had to move over to the toilet again when he started retching for a second time. “Not your fault,” he gasped, falling back into Dean’s arms.

In effect, it only made Dean feel ten times more guilty that Cas could see his guilt and try to dissuade him of it while Cas himself was in so much pain. Cas trying to make _Dean_ feel better about everything, pushing himself aside so selflessly just for that - it made Dean’s heart blossom and tear apart at the same time.

He though then that no matter what he did, he would never deserve Cas.

But that would never stop him from staying with Cas as long as he was wanted.

Once Cas was sure that he wouldn’t be getting sick anymore, Dean shepherded him into bed, curling around him protectively. Cas’s upset sobbing eventually lessened and grew quieter, until he was silent altogether. Dean looked into his eyes, and he could see the memories haunting Cas, visibly there, but he could tell that Cas had gotten out everything he needed to, and the rest he would store up inside, just like last time, with Raphael. 

And Dean knew that just like himself, Cas would be perpetually be haunted, forever shoving those memories aside to live his day to day life.

“This only makes us stronger, you know,” Cas croaked out quietly.

Dean looked down at him, perplexed at the change.

“It only brings us closer,” Cas continued. “See what we’ve been through? We’re unbreakable. Invincible.” Dean looked at him more clearly, and he could see the intense fire in Castiel’s eyes that had him falling in love months ago in the first place. The strength and determination crept through into Cas’s voice, resonating with steely conviction. “So they can keep trying to use me, or break me, or get to you through me, but we’re not going to let them. And my opening tomorrow night? I’ll be at a hundred and fifty percent, just to spite that fucker Luke. I hope he _rots._ And I’ll do it all for you, Dean.” Cas looked right back into Dean’s eyes, and it was like he was looking right into the core of Dean’s soul. “I’d do it all again, for you.”

Tears prickled at Dean’s eyes as he pulled Cas in for a searing kiss. “Forever,” Dean swore passionately when they broke apart. 

“Forever,” Cas agreed in a rough whisper, pulling Dean to him for another kiss.

Emotionally drained, it wasn’t long until Cas was content, curled up in Dean’s arms until he fell asleep. Dean ran his hands through Cas’s hair, holding him close, and as he drifted off beside him, his last coherent thought was someday making his promise more real.

_Forever._

* * *

 

 “DEAN, I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD ALMIGHTY, IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR IDIOT MONKEYS UNDER CONTROL I’M GOING TO MURDER EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM!” Meg shrieked into the crew room.

Every crew member within hearing blanched and made themselves busy, while Dean approached the fuming Meg. “What the fuck is going on, Meg?” he asked, nearly snarling. There was definitely enough stress on all of them now that the show was opening in less than an hour, and everyone was all over the place doing last minute adjustments and fixes.

“One of your _stupid_ orangutans broke the fucking _door_ again is what’s fucking going on!” she hissed.

Dean glared, before pointing towards the back wall. “See, some people are smart and learn their lessons so THERE is the backup door that I built specifically in case something like that happened, so gather some of my _orangutans_ and put up the replacement!”

Meg breathed an obvious sigh of relief. “At least someone around here has more than a fraction of a brain,” she muttered. “YOU! And you. Get that god damn door off the wall and get it the hell on stage. Curtain is in less than an hour, people!”

The two stagehands she yelled to scrambled to do what she said, and Dean took the opportunity to double check that everything was okay in the stage area.

As he passed one of the dressing rooms, he stuck his head in to see Cas sitting in the chair, staring into the mirror. “Hey, babe,” he said, entering. “I can’t wait to see you out there. You’re going to be amazing.”

Cas nodded dumbly, looking over at Dean, who suddenly realized that his grip on the chair he was sitting in was white-knuckled, his entire body tense with nervous anticipation.

“Whoa, look at me,” Dean instructed, crouching down next to the chair. He pressed his lips to Cas’s in an effort to relax him, which visibly worked. “You’re going to go out there just like you did for previews, but wow everyone ten times as hard. This is your Broadway debut. This is the big time, what you’ve been working at for years, remember? You’re amazing. And they’re all gonna see it.”

Cas smiled. “What would I do without you?” he asked, dazed, kissing Dean one more time before a random voice was heard from down the hallway.

“ _Dean!!!”_

“Gotta go,” Dean told Cas. “Break a leg, baby,” he said, pecking Cas on the lips one more time before rushing off.

Forty minutes later and it was curtain time. Dean got on his headset and went to his instructed position backstage, and he could see Cas glance at him from his position onstage. 

In that glance, Dean could see his expression smooth over, glazing into his character, and the confidence he exuded was breathtaking.

Dean was in the wings as the curtain came up, the stage lights went on, and Cas was home.


	32. Epilogue

_One year later_

The crowd positively roared when the last note of the finale musical number came to a close, Cas in the spotlight. Everyone in the audience immediately got to their feet, whistling and cheering at the top of their lungs.

Dean's chest swelled with pride from backstage, and he reached into his back pocket, feeling reassuringly for what he knew was still there.

After the cast bows, Michael strode onstage with a handheld wireless microphone.

"Thank you all so much," he began. "As we all know, this performance was the last in this show of someone we all hold very dear to us, Castiel Novak." The crowd went wild as Cas blushed, and Michael had to wait for them to fall silent before continuing.

"We've had an amazing year, but our friend is moving on. As will we. But for this special occasion of his final show, I as producer thought that we should bring someone special in to say a word."

Dean's heart leapt up into his throat as he walked out on stage, throwing a casual wave and a smile to the audience, passing by Cas, who had a perplexed, surprised look on his face. He took the microphone from Michael, patting him on the shoulder.

Clearing his throat, he addressed the audience. "Uh, hi everyone. My name is Dean Winchester, and I've been a stage manager of this show for half a year, and before that, I was crew chief. I would just like to extend my sincerest congratulations to the cast and crew, for doing a phenomenal job for the last year."

The audience clapped politely at that, but it was obvious they were looking for the intention behind Dean's appearance.

"I've also been together with Castiel Novak for almost a year and a half. It's been a bumpy ride, but it's been the happiest year and a half of my life."

There were a couple of aww's and other appreciative noises from the audience, including a wolf-whistle which Dean grinned at. He turned to Cas, walking over to stand next to him where he was with his castmates. Dean looked into his eyes, seeing the lost, confused look, and also a note of apprehension, but in that moment, it was as if everyone else disappeared. He and Cas were alone on that stage, and there was no audience, no cast, no Michael, just Dean looking into Cas's eyes.

"Cas, I don't want to go another single day without you. You've been the light in my life that's lifted me up from the dark depths, and when I'm with you, all I can see is the future. You're my everything."

Cas's eyes started watering, and Dean took his hand, kissing his fingers and holding it tightly before releasing it to get a better grip on the microphone, as he reached into his back pocket.

Dean got on one knee, facing Cas, and there was a pause from the audience before they broke out into cheers. Dean's pulse pounded in his ears, his heart was pounding in his throat, his stomach felt like it was going to flip right out of his body, but he opened the box, and presented the ring, raising the microphone to his mouth to speak.

"Castiel Novak, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Forever. Will you marry me?"

The impact of the question had the audience on their feet, cheering, and when Cas burst into tears, shaking his head yes as Dean placed the ring on his finger and yanked him into a passionate kiss, the crowd roared.

Under the stage lights, Dean solidified his promise.

_Forever._


End file.
